


Eat Your Heart Out

by CrypticGabriel



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anger Management, Anxiety, Dementia, Depression, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Member Death, Grief/Mourning, Group Therapy, Impulsivity, Lance (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Lance has a stepparent, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, One Night Stands Implied, Passive-aggression, Past Dysfunctional Marriage, Post-Divorce, Rage, Road Rage, Shiro is Divorced, Shklance Big Bang, Smoking, Stress, Stress Relief, Threesome - M/M/M, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, anger problems, excessive use of alcohol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-08 14:46:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14696361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrypticGabriel/pseuds/CrypticGabriel
Summary: Three angry men with three various problems come together for anger management classes.Lance McClain has been carrying this passive aggressive rudeness around everywhere he goes, when he just needs reassurance during his daily life.Keith Kogane has been suffering from a fiery rage most of his life, and after using unhealthy coping mechanisms for so long, he finally gets a chance to get better and feel something else other than anger.Takashi Shirogane's life has been falling apart at the seams, and with the stress very quickly getting to him, he needs help. And fast.In the process of begrudgingly showing up for these group classes, together these three angry men grow and recover together, clinging onto the hope that the grass is greener on the other side.





	1. Setting the Stage

**Author's Note:**

> I'd written this work for the Shklance Big Bang, however I've had a lot of difficulties getting around to posting this fic. But now, I'm more than ready to reveal the hard work I've done into making something that I'd been using for several months as a therapeutic work. Thank you for being interested in this work! I'll be posting the first several chapters up until I'm ready to share the rest!

_Suburbia can get rather tiring, at_ times. It's when life that is so seemingly mundane gets under people's skin that can be the challenging part. The small, seemingly happy neighborhood simply known as Altea is about to get a serious wakeup call.

Summons get sent to three houses that are within the same boring street. Three men step outside to check out their latest junk piles before their daily commutes. And as thin green letters get examined individually, three disgruntled voices let out their audible groans that are bound to turn heads.

Today they are reminded of their appointments at Coran's Anger Management Group. They glance side to side, and when catching the eyes from one neighbor to another, they give each other a hard, knowing look. It's a collective agreement and a solemn tribute to the day ahead.

Lance McClain lives with his parents. He glares at the summons in his hand after quickly diverting his gaze from his neighbors. He doesn't want his family to be even further shamed by their son's supposedly pathetic excuse of a life.

Keith Kogane groans only because he'd forgotten about the appointment. Good thing the summons were sent from the mail, because his inbox is cluttered with junk from subscriptions he doesn't even remember signing up for. It would've been lost in cyberspace. Coran is rather efficient. He adjusts the fingerless gloves on his fingers before folding the letter up and stuffing it in his pocket. He has too much he has to do, rather than worry about what lies ahead this week.

Takashi Shirogane is already late for work as it was, and he doesn't need any further distractions restraining him from going to class. He has to drill some history lessons into their brains. He drops the summons while he'd been adjusting his reading glasses and loses grip of the paper clutched in his prosthetic. He's about ready to kick his mailbox, and he clenches his fists before forcing himself to take deep breaths and rush to his car.

How did they get themselves caught up in this predicament?

 

* * *

 

 _Lance has always loved his job_ at GAC Mart, the town’s local supermarket. It has become his life, really. But lately, he’s just been so damn distracted. He can’t stop thinking about nothings that have been muttered under the breaths of older relatives and even jabs from his older brother to his many uncles.

It affects him a lot more than it probably should. He works both in produce and as a cashier so that he has more hours, and he has always been one of the regular customers’ favorites. However, for whatever reason they’re now complaining that he’s being so rude. He doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s because sometimes he needs to let out his frustrations and pent up anger in a way that doesn’t make him freak out.

“Excuse me, young man?”

He’s just finishing up a display and knocks over the cauliflower display from being startled. It takes a conscious effort for him to not scream out his frustrations then, but he lets out a long, shuddering sigh through his nose while bending down to pick them up. Good thing they’re all wrapped up.

“Yes?” he exasperatedly gripes.

She has this polite smile on her face. She’s just this little old thing. It’s actually quite pitiful. “Hello. I’m looking for the strawberries that are on sale. I can’t seem to find them.”

Lance notably rolls his eyes. He and Hunk just fixed the sales labels over two hours ago. And seniors are always the worst to work with when it comes with sales. “The strawberries aren’t on sale this week, ma’am.” He rearranges the display again, and the woman’s still standing right there.

“No, sir. There is a section in the flyer where the strawberries are now $2.99 instead of $5.99.”

“That flyer ended yesterday,” he frowns. “It’s the new week now. The strawberries are the normal price now.”

“No. That’s not what maintenance said.” She crosses her arms. She’s starting to get snippy, and it’s making Lance feel more irritated.

These types of situations are the _worst_ for Lance. He extremely dislikes when customers are like this. If they just acted rationally, then it wouldn’t be as big of a deal. Actually, it would be great!

“The dates are clearly written on top of the paper,” he mutters, notably annoyed. “It’s not that hard to miss, and it’s in a large enough font for people to read.”

“Excuse me—”

“And another thing, I think someone from produce will know more about the prices of _produce_ than some guy from maintenance. Now, you can get the strawberries for their normal price, as written on the label, or you can instead try and find something else to buy until they go back on sale again. How’s that sound?”

She’s baffled by his attitude and steps back. “I don’t need your rudeness,” she mutters, her voice a lot colder now. “Where is your manager?”

“I don’t need a manager to tell you what the price of strawberries is.”

She scoffs as she turns to leave the department, and almost in an instant his manager is right by their side. Blaytz stands tall beside Lance and observes the two of them with a frown.

“What seems to be the trouble?” he chides and steps right in between the two of them. Lance has to move away a bit just to get some breathing room.

“Your employee is a menace,” she seethes. “I was asking about the sale on strawberries, and he has been nothing but rude to me the whole experience.”

Lance gulps as he watches Blaytz rub his brow. He was in deep trouble, now. It’s the first time someone actually confronted him about his apparent rudeness. He can’t really explain why he’s so tense all the time, now. Even some of the regulars are used to his complete shift in mood. And he can’t even be bothered to try and pretend that nothing’s bothering him in his life.

One thing that he definitely doesn’t know how to do is fake how he feels. Maybe he used to at some point, but now he can’t be bothered. It’s not that easy of a skill to keep. He supposes he can fake a smile when he _needs_ to, but it’s annoying to keep it up. He’s usually the type to suppress his frustrations, and he usually it keeps him from being too difficult to talk to.

But despite it, he never verbally admits that he _has_ a problem. He keeps that bottled up, deep inside, and he lets it fester there like an infected wound. He’s used to it by now, after harboring his anger and irritations for many years. It’s been working, since he’s been told by friends and employees that he’s fun to work with. It’s just the way it’s always been.

“I’m so sorry about all of this trouble. I’ll be happy to help you myself, ma’am,” his manager then insists before turning to Lance briefly. “Managers’ Office. Now.”

If he gets fired today, he doesn’t know _what_ he’s going to do! Why can’t he just... _control_ himself? He’s thought that he was behaving fairly well the entire time. He doesn’t want to _pretend_ to be happy when’s tense. He’d much father _be_ happy instead of having to play pretend. Things have been rough lately, but it’s nothing really groundbreaking or hard to deal with. Any more straws, and it will break the camel’s back and make it collapse right on top of him. And when that happens, he will never hear the end of it from his relatives.

He sits there alone for about ten minutes before Blaytz comes into the office to address him. They’re both silent while seated across from each other, but Lance is afraid to speak. He opens his mouth, but as soon as a noise bubbles from his throat, Blaytz raises his hand up to cut him off. He obediently stays quiet and waits for his boss to speak.

“This is the fifth time this _week_ that I saw how rude you have been acting towards our customers. That doesn’t count your attitude that has started in the beginning of spring,” he frowns. “I like you. I don’t wanna fire you, but you don’t know when to shut the hell up.”

Lance flinches at his cold tone. Blaytz has never talked this harshly towards him, and he’s been working at the comic book store since he was sixteen! “I know, Blaytz. I dunno what’s wrong with me, okay? I-I just...”

“I may have an idea,” he rouses while sitting back in his chair. “I believe you may have a bit of an anger problem.”

“What? I’m not angry,” he scoffs. “I’m just... occasionally passive aggressive, and there’s a huge possibility that my filter is nearly gone.”

“So, yeah. You do have an anger problem.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” Lance crosses his arms and stares down at the desk.

His eyes narrow. “Are you really gonna do this now? Look at who you’re talking to.” He waits until Lance finally makes eye contact with him before speaking again. “One of my buddies that works at Blade of Marmora Cabinetry has been going to this counseling group for a few months now, and it’s been helping him a ton. The counselor’s name is Coran. “I’ll ask him to hook you up with a pamphlet.”

“Group counseling?” Lance inwardly groans. “C’mon, Blaytz! My problem isn’t even that bad! I won’t survive being surrounded by a bunch of angry people!”

“Oh, nonsense. You’ll fit right in!” he grins. He doesn’t look up once now as he’s contacting his friend. “Besides, if you don’t go, you’re fired.”

“Wha—?” he exasperatedly growls as he gets up from his chair. “You can’t do that. I’m part of the union! And I’m totally fine, I swear!”

“You’re sure about that?” he snarks. “Pick up my chair, then. I want a full report after next week’s session. I’ll discuss this with the big boss.”

Lance glances over at the fallen chair and blushes as he awkwardly set it back upright. “Fine...” It comes out through gritted teeth as he steps out of the office. He just needs to finish up the day, and hopefully this whole anger management counseling thing is just a threat to keep him from getting fired.

Of course, three days later is when he realizes that it’s not a threat, as he makes plans to take off work next Thursday so he can get this appointment over with.

* * *

 

 _Keith’s situation is... tricky. There’s too_ many sketchy wounds that he refuses to have opened up right now, nor does he feel like anyone would even care about them in the slightest. He can’t bring himself to relax on his own. He needs other outlets or mechanisms to just keep his mind off of whatever the hell is bothering him at the time.

On the day his coworkers will soon confront him about his problem, he wakes up a little earlier than normal and just lies in bed. His neighbors upstairs have three children. They’re stomping around like it’s no one’s business, despite his constant complaints. He’s about ready to storm up the stairs of this cramped duplex to give their parents a piece of his mind. He’s so sick and tired of the thundering little feet and the sudden crash from all their weight hitting the floor during their tantrums.

Not that he blames these kids for it. He’s twenty-five and still throws temper tantrums.

The bed feels so cold as he’s lying in it, and the bruises littering his torso are reminders of what happened the night before. He didn’t even know the guy’s name. He’d left right afterwards.

To keep himself from crying about it, he takes one of his pillows and pegs it at the wall closest to him. Was being emotionally intimate and close to someone too much to ask? Apparently so.

He notices sometime in the morning that he has to get up for work very soon. He can’t be late again. He forces himself out of bed, still nude while dragging his body into the shower. He needs a cigarette, he tells himself, or two. Maybe a whole pack. He’s been trying to quit for the past couple months, but it proves to be rather difficult. Maybe he should get more of those patches before he gets home from work tonight.

As he cleans himself, he leans heavily against the wall. His mind keeps wandering and fogging in and out, and it’s enough to keep him disoriented for a good while. It’s been burning up for so long that he sometimes feels threatened by the idea that maybe the fire within him will soon flashover and come out of his ears. He’s noticed how explosive he’s become throughout his lifetime, and it’s not a real shock.

How can he not be, though? He’s been like this since high school. Since...

He shakes his head and continues to get ready. He almost forgets his gloves this morning. He doesn’t need customers staring at his damn hands and questioning what’s wrong with them. He just likes whittling, _god._

Keith steps out of his house with his jacket tightly wrapped around himself using one hand to grip it, smoking his cigarette in another. It’s raining, so he has to do it on the porch, despite his landlord forbidding smoking on the property. He needs to take his mind off of what’s bugging him long enough to get through the day, but during his daze he’s lost track of time.

He’s already late enough for the bus, so he starts his stride to the station. Despite his efforts, he gets his feet soaked in puddles inches deep and misses it while shivering from the cold. Today’s getting off to a _great_ start.

Keith doesn’t know which is better: missing the bus and being ten minutes late to work, or being soaked through his clothes and having no means of warmth because Kolivan likes to keep the shop freezing cold. He flings the door open when he finally arrives, his drenched hair covering his face. Luck has always been on his side, clearly.

“Took you long enough,” Ulaz chuckles while he’s fixing up the trimming of their latest project. The cupboard that was needed for Dr. Honerva was supposed to be finished a week ago. They are so damn behind that Keith is about ready to lose his mind. And their boss hates it when they’re not on schedule.

As he shoots Ulaz a glare and gets his blades ready, he continues his work on the finishing from where he left off yesterday. “Let’s just get this over with.” He’s shivering tensely, chilled to the bone. “I’d be surprised if Dr. Honerva doesn’t give us a tip for this job.”

“Keith, you can’t always be so negative about things,” he frowns. “You’ll age five times faster that way.”

“Back that statement up with evidence,” he snorts. While he’s distracted, he nicks up his finger when carving too closely. “ _Shit!_ That fucking—” He hisses and shoots right up, flinging his knife away from them and towards his table.

“Jesus!” Ulaz diverts his attention away from his work briefly. “You could’ve killed somebody!”

“Relax, no one was even over there,” he growls while wrapping his finger up with paper towels. “I’ll be fine, by the way. Just a scratch.”

“Pull yourself together, will ya?” he sighs. “Kolivan will be here any minute with Dr. Honerva to check on this cupboard. We can’t keep her waiting any longer.”

He glares and cleans his carving knife. “It’s your damn fault for distracting me, Ulaz.” When he sits back down, he continues working on that corner. He manages to calm down by breathing sharply through his nose, in and out. He can’t have a shaky hand while he’s working. “I already need a cigarette.”

He hears a sigh that makes him roll his eyes. “Keith, I thought you were quitting. Kolivan won’t be too pleased to hear that.”

“He’s never pleased,” he mutters and stays quiet after that.

 

Just as they’re sanding the finished product, Kolivan comes in with Dr. Honerva in tow. They observe the process, and beads of sweat form on the back of Keith’s neck. He’s already on his last leg with his boss as it is, and he doesn’t need _this_ to go poorly, too. He’s always late, and there have been days where he didn’t show up to work at all. It’s mostly his fault that it took this long for the cupboard to be done. If he just showed up on time and when he was supposed to, they wouldn’t be in this mess.

“Is the trimming on the bottom supposed to be uneven?”

He flinches at hearing Dr. Honerva’s comment. It’s not uneven! He’d checked it twice! He looks it over for himself just as he hears Kolivan’s audible sigh.

“Why is it uneven, Kogane?” he grumbles.

“I-it’s not!” he insists and turns his head. He starts shivering again under the weight of their stares. “I’ve checked these measurements many times! Maybe it’s just because of the angle you’re looking at it.”

“Kogane!”

He flinches and cuts himself off, lowering his voice. “Wouldn’t that be a possibility, Dr. Honerva?”

She paces a few steps to the side and tilts her head, pursing her lips. She still looks dissatisfied. “Still seems crooked to me.” She grimaces. “No matter. I’ll take it as it is. But I feel that it loses some of its worth. I’ll pay $135 instead of $160 for that cupboard.”

Keith sees a tell-tale vein popping out of the side of his boss’ head, and he knows he is in trouble. How many times can he say that it’s _not crooked?!_ He doesn’t need any of this bullshit. He grips the hilt of his knife and slams the blade into the side of the chair he’s sitting on, his knuckles white as he lodges it into the wood. As he watches their client leave with her new cupboard, Kolivan is still giving him this icy glare.

“That’s coming out of your pay, Kogane,” he mutters.

“How many times do I have to say that it wasn’t uneven?!” Keith growls while standing up. “You’d think I would know how to do my job by now, Kolivan!”

“You _watch_ your step!” he snaps. “I will not hesitate to let you go. I don’t need weak links in my business. You’ve tried my patience for the last time.”

 _“Okay,_ I get it! I don’t know what you expect me to do about it!”

Keith doesn’t stay long enough to let him finish. He storms out of the shop, turning the corner and sticking around in the alley beside the shop. The café is next door, and he sure hopes that he doesn’t disturb the business with his enraged screams and his kicks against the building. But by “hope,” he means that he doesn’t actually care in the slightest.

What does he have to _do_ in his life to get an ounce of respect? He’s tried _everything_ he can possibly think of! Everything! And he has gotten nothing for it in return. All he’s gotten is repercussions, black lungs, and an increasingly bad reputation of himself. It’s so out of control, and he isn’t even sure where to begin to fix it.

He doesn’t know when he started crying during his assault on the brick wall. His tears feel hot, in contrast to the icy rainfall still torrentially pouring down on whatever is in vicinity.

“Why did I let it come to this?” he finally breathes out when he’s calmed down enough. He wants to put a stop to this, but he doesn’t know what to _do._ He feels too shameful to go to the only family he has.

His shoulders are hunched over as he steps back inside, soaking wet once again. Kolivan is in his office now, and soon Keith’s shift will be over. He walks over to Ulaz. He’s his last resort, since he’s too embarrassed to talk to his uncle. He’s a good voice of reason, after all.

“Ulaz... I have a problem.”

“Is that supposed to be news to me?” is his quick response. “But, you know what they say, don’t you? Admitting that you have a problem is the first step to recovery.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles. “I’m hitting a really rough patch. Well... my whole life has just been one huge rough patch. But I wanna get better.”

He gives him a nod. “I get it. And I know just the thing to help you.”

“What is it?”

He reaches to his table and in his drawer. “I was actually saving this for you.” He shows him a pamphlet that’s covered in sawdust. “I go to this anger management group. I’m in a later stage in recovery, so we won’t be seeing each other. But Coran is a miracle worker. He’ll be able to help you.”

“Just... Coran?” He tilts his head. “Is he even certified?”

“Don’t you dare ask that when you see him?” he chuckles. “He doesn’t like being flashy. But you’ll see his Doctorate plaque the minute you walk in.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” he shrugs. “But what if he can’t help me?”

Ulaz leans back and closes his drawer. “Keith. If he can help me, then he sure as hell can help you. It’ll take some time, but I know you’ll get there. The last thing I want is for you to keep suffering for no reason.”

He doesn’t look up, stuffing the pamphlet into his pocket. “So, Ulaz. Did you ask my uncle out yet?”

“Don’t try and change the subject.” Ulaz sputters, and Keith stifles a laugh while he regains himself. “Not yet. It’s a process.”

 _“Right,”_ he teases as they go over the blueprints for their next project.

He sincerely hopes that with this group therapy he will get better. It’s the first step for him. He’s not going to let anything stand in the way of him getting better. Maybe... that’s a bit of an aggressive way to look at it, but that’s just something he needs to work on.

 

* * *

 

_Just another day in paradise, it seems._

Shiro glares at the long line of traffic in front of him on his way home from work. He has been putting extra hours at the high school to try and modify his lesson plans, and he’s just... _tired._ Tired of it all. His job can really get to him at times.

That’s not really the only thing getting to him, as of late, but it’s a contributing factor.

He feels his car swerve again—not by much, but enough to take notice—when he loses his grip on his prosthetic. He stiffens up while keeping a firm, steady hold on it with his flesh hand. He’s about ready to throw the damn thing out the window. He can’t stand it!

He hears his phone blowing up too, constantly cutting in and out the music playing from his aux cord. He _hates_ when that happens. But he can’t even reach down to silence his phone because of his _damn arm._ He’s not used to the bionic technology just yet, nor can he honestly afford it. He’s better off just using the plastic fake arm he’s got at home. It’d be far less annoying.

He doesn’t even know who’s contacting him right now. It’s probably a mix of instigators and stressors pulling at him from all different directions. No wonder why his hair is turning white already, and he just turned thirty!

His entire roster of students in all of his classes failed the test that he’s been trying to drill into their heads all week. All eighty of them, of various levels of learning. They just can’t get it into their heads, and he’s starting to get really aggravated over it.

The line of traffic is still too damn long, and the exit to his neighborhood from the main road is still three miles away. He needs a nice, hot shower when he gets home. He can get to grading homework after freshening up and drinking a nice cup of tea.

He was suddenly forced out of his train of thought as his heart jumps all the way up to his throat.

Shiro slams down hard on the breaks as a driver cuts him off in the line, swinging into the lane when they barely had enough space. At the same time, he uses his prosthetic to heavily press down on the horn. He can hear his tires screeching, just faintly.

That’s enough to get the steam erupting out of his ears. He watches the driver in front of him stop short, and he slams down harder on the horn.

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?!” he exclaims, not once moving his prosthetic away. He wants this asshole out of their car!

After another glaring red light, he puts his car in park and storms out. He rushes over and knocks hard on the driver side door. He watches the driver look at him in confusion and disgust, and he just nods with a loud, “Yeah, get out of your fucking car!”

They don’t. They just roll down their window. “Look, I dunno what you’re trying to pull here, but we’re all stuck in this jam! Get the fuck over it!”

“I will not get over it!” He yells loud enough to leave a sting in his throat. “I already have to deal with injuries from a car a car accident, and I do _not_ need anything else wrong with me! Maybe you should watch where you’re going and not put anyone’s lives at risk!”

They scoff and shake their head in disbelief. “All this, over a turn?! What do you want me to do about it, pal? It already happened!”

Shiro flinches as he hears blaring horns from behind them. The light has turned green, and now _they’re_ holding up the whole line. But right now, he doesn’t give a shit. He turns his attention right back to the driver.

“I want you to not pull shit like this on anyone else! Your carelessness would’ve gotten someone hurt!”

“You’re fucking crazy, man,” they mutter and switch their shift to drive. “Back off, or I’m calling the police!”

The engine revs, and Shiro forces himself to step back slightly, as to not get his feet run over. He glares at the driver as he speeds right off.

“Yeah, fuck you, too!” he growls as he watches them leave. He then hears horns continue their furious honking behind him. “Alright! Knock it off!” he screams while he gets back in his car and slams the door. He doesn’t even bother with the seatbelt right away as he speeds off right after the next green light.

At least now he can make a beeline for his house. However, as soon as he pulls into his driveway, he realizes just what he’s done. He smacks his hand on the steering wheel before roughly pushing his head back against the seat.

“Fuck...”

 

_“...You got out of your car?”_

_“I know,” Shiro sighs after taking_ another sip of his tea. He fixes his reading glasses and squints down at the homework assignments he’s received. There aren’t very many, and he hates giving out zeroes. But sometimes, students just will never learn if he doesn’t do that to them. “I was just so mad. It reminded me of when I was...”

 _“I get that.”_ Matt Hold is on the phone with him. They work together at the school, with him being an English teacher. _“But Takashi. Repeat that statement back to yourself, and just realize how messed up that is.”_

He sighs heavily. “I got out of my car to curse off a kid that cut me off during rush hour.”

 _“Sounds pretty bad, doesn’t it?”_ he snorts. _“You’ve got a serious problem, Shiro.”_

“No, I don’t,” he mutters. “I’m just going through a lot. It’ll pass.”

He can hear his sigh over the phone, and it makes him hide his face. He really doesn’t need this lecture right now. He’s got so much else to worry about that he can’t even think of addressing. Now really is not the time!

_“Something’s up. Okay? I know you’ve got a lot going on, but you need to take some time out of that crazy as hell life of yourself and use that to take care of yourself. You’re making yourself go nuts over this whole stress thing. Coming out of your car to yell at the guy in front of you for cutting you off is not normal.”_

Shiro grumbles. “It very well should be.”

 _“You know very well that you can’t do something like that at work,”_ Matt then warns. _“What if you take that anger out on one of your students? You could lose your job.”_

He tenses at hearing that. “You know I’d never do that. That would never happen.”

_“You say that now. But you probably told yourself a while back that you would never stop traffic dead in its tracks over some asshole. And yet...”_

Despite Matt’s words trailing off, no other words are really needed to convince him. He considers seeking therapy as a colossal waste of time and money. Besides, these resources shouldn’t be wasted on someone that doesn’t even want them. Someone else can very well use therapy instead of him. And he thinks that with all the chaos in his life and all the problems that he has, then they’d have to turn him away because he’s just _too much._ It hasn’t stopped people in his life from doing that before.

Shiro shakes his head and opens up his computer. “Alright. Okay, Matt. No need to say it again.” He fights back the emotion that’s threatening to escape his throat. “I’ll find the nearest counselor and go there. Happy?”

 _“Kinda?”_ he teases. _“Pics or it didn’t happen, got it?”_

“I got it,” he groans. “I’ll talk to you later.” As he hangs up, he looks through the different search results that popped up after his search. He opens a tab that reveals all the different local therapy groups. He has to filter and fish through them to find one that works best for him.

He sees Coran’s business card displayed on one of the websites, as well as the pictures of happy people and the success stories. Well, his story isn’t going to necessarily be a successful one, in his opinion, but something like this interests him. He registers for the beginner’s class.

Despite the buildup for all of them getting counseling, none of them are ready. None of them are quite prepared for what it’s going to entail. At least these three neighbors all have one thing in common:

They are all assholes.


	2. Introduce Yourselves

_Begrudgingly, Lance sits down on the_ chair that’s among other chairs in a circular formation. There’s nothing in the center of the circle, but it’s not like it would make the set-up any better. He’s surrounded by people he doesn’t know, and he already feels like he doesn’t really need to be here.

He only recognizes two people, and he uses his choice in phrasing _vaguely._ He doesn’t really think of them as acquaintances, but he knows that they exist. They’re two of his neighbors from Altea. He’s never talked to them before.

There are four other people in this group. There’s this tall woman with dyed silver hair and looks that could kill. He also can’t help but keep staring at this huge, buff man with glass eye that just statically stays still while his real eye darts around the room. The other huge man in here has a contrast from the former, with his largeness being in the height while he looms over all of us even from his chair. And then there’s this lanky guy that has this grimace plastered to his face while he’s looking around at everyone.

Lance didn’t know what he was expecting when Coran walked through the door. He figured that maybe he was going to this older gentleman with graying hair and glasses. But sometimes reality doesn’t meet expectations in the slightest. Coran’s hair can almost be mistaken for orange, and he has a huge moustache. And the voice he actually has doesn’t match at all what Lance expected, either.

Oh well. If he was paying money for this, he may as well enjoy this.

“Welcome to Coran’s Anger Management Group. I will be your host for the evening. I am Dr. Coran Smythe, Ph.D. But please, call me Coran. We’re all family here.”

They all mumble their own garbled nonsense of greetings melded together. Lance crosses his arms while he slumps back. The only one of the group that genuinely seems eager to learn is the short man with the mullet sitting across from him.

“Right, then,” he sighs happily. “We’re going to spend a _load_ of time together, so why don’t we start out by introducing ourselves?”

No one really responds, and Lance hears the big man clear his throat amid the silence.

Coran clasps his hands together. He stays standing outside of the circle. “We’ll all start off with our names, and why don’t you tell us what you do for a living? Where do you work? Then, give us a brief idea as to why you’re here. Tell us your favorite food to eat and what your favorite movie is. And how about we cap it off by telling us one good thing that happened today?”

Lance just barely paid attention. He’s staring at the several cat posters all over Coran’s walls.

“Who would like to start? And we’ll then go down the circle clockwise.”

Lance flinches out of his dazed trance when hearing Coran clasps his hands again, and he finds himself clumsily raising his hand.

“Perfect! You go first.”

He stares at Coran briefly like he has two heads. What is he supposed to say? Oh, right! “Hey there.” He waves to everyone and gives the best smile he can. “Lance McClain here. I’ve been working at GAC Mart for eight years. I’m here because I almost got fired for being snarky with an old lady.”

He hears a couple people laugh at that. Finally, someone that isn’t as much of a stickler as his parents! And even Blaytz doesn’t have the same sense of humor he’s used to. Well, at least the others in the circle are laughing with him. Coran doesn’t seem too impressed.

“My favorite food is empanadas loaded with cheese, and my mom’s the only one that knows how to make it the right way. My favorite movie is _The Avengers,_ and a good thing that happened to me today was that I was able to take off from work today to come here.”

“Thank you for sharing,” Coran says excitedly. “Now, everyone say hello to Lance.”

Lance isn’t sure why Coran has this certain infliction in his voice, but he’s guessing that it’s only because this is a new experience for all of them. He just really hated being talked to in a patronizing tone, like he was a kid or something.

“Alrighty. Next in the order, going clockwise,” he reminds them.

It’s the tall man’s turn, the one that looks like he’s just looming over everyone. And his voice is as deep as Lance imagined it being.

“Hello. I’m Zarkon,” he mumbles lowly. “Just Zarkon. I’m here on probation and doing community service. I was arrested for a road rage incident that ended with a hit and run.”

Lance gulps. He doesn’t bother looking anywhere else around him.

“It’s not like anyone died, or anything. I just clipped the bumper.”

That doesn’t make the situation any better for him.

“Anyways, my favorite food stuffed shellfish, and my favorite movie is _Silence of the Lambs._ One good thing that happened to me today was finding a children’s toy in my cereal this morning. It was a Minion keychain.”

There is an awkward pause before everyone has the courage to say hello to Zarkon, and they continue down the line.

Next is one of his neighbors. He has this metal prosthetic arm and a scar on the bridge of his nose. He clears his throat and occasionally looks over at the other clients while raising his hand up in an awkward wave. “My name is Takashi Shirogane, but I like to be called Shiro, for short. I’m a history teacher at the high school. I’m here because I held up traffic one day in a fit of rage, and my coworker thinks that I’ll eventually take my anger out on my students, for whatever reason.” He laughs dryly at his own statement. “My favorite food is yaki gyoza, and my favorite movie is _The Eye._ Not the one with Jessica Alba, but the original one directed by the Pang Brothers. And one good thing that happened to me today was not being late on the way here. That’s all.”

“Hi, Shiro,” Lance waves as everyone else responds. He so far seems to be the only other calm guy here. Do the two of them really need anger management?

Next is the tall woman with silver hair. She doesn’t look too impressed by any of them. “My name is Allura, and my aunt is Dr. Honerva. I work at a Victoria’s Secret store in the mall as the night bookkeeper. I’m here because Dr. Honerva thinks my attitude doesn’t reflect her image and that I’ll ruin her reputation.” She shrugs. “My favorite food is spinach artichoke, and my favorite movie is _Titanic._ I can’t help the fact that their love is pure.”

“That’s debatable.”

The huge man sitting a bit away from everyone just coughed that under his breath. That makes Allura’s eyes narrow while she gets up.

“What are you trying to get at, huh?” she snaps.

“Allura, please,” Coran gasps and holds his arm out to block her. She’s seething but eventually relents. “We all must learn to be respectful to each other in order to continue our session sin a calm manner. Having disagreements is a great way to do that.

She rolls her eyes and slumps back into her chair. “Anyways, one good thing that happened to me today was that I finally found my charger cord that’s been missing for several months, even though I already bought a new one.”

“Thank you for sharing,” he grins as she finishes. Everyone greets her except the big man, who’s just looking at all of them. Lance notices just now that he’s the only one that hasn’t said hello to a single person here, not even Coran. His turn will be last. For right now, it’s the pouty, lanky man.

“I’m Throk,” he grunts, not looking at any of them. “I’m a game streamer, after dropping out of college and losing my job as a security guard. And I’m here because I punched several holes into my wall, and my mom knew I wouldn’t be able to pay for it and wanted me to clean my act up so a woman would find me appealing enough. My favorite food is Texas toast, and my favorite movie is _The Matrix._ And one good thing that happened today is my mom telling me that I need to get out of bed and come downstairs to eat pancakes for breakfast.”

“Wow, your life sounds _so_ terrible,” Allura mumbles sarcastically.

“Allura,” Coran chides, his eye twitching. “I’m glad that you’re here to join us, Throk. I hope you’ll find our program to be of great use to you.”

“Yeah, sure,” he grumbles and crosses his arms still.

“I’m Keith.”

The mullet starts before everyone else is ready, and they’re all doing double takes while he’s sitting there awkwardly in his chair.

“Y-yeah,” he clears his throat, now that he has their attention. “I’m Keith... And I work at Blade of Marmora Cabinetry. I came here because I was referred here by a coworker.”

Lance recognizes the name of the place Keith works. One of Blaytz’s friends works there.

“I knew that place sounded familiar,” Coran gasps. “You work with Ulaz?”

He nods slowly, not really saying anything.

That just fills in all the missing pieces. What a small world this has turned out to be.

“His progress has been excellent! I hope it will have the same desired effect for you, as well.”

“Thank you,” Keith hums before continuing with his introduction. “My favorite food is chicken nuggets. I dunno why, they just are. I don’t really watch any movies, so I don’t have a favorite one. One good thing that happened to me today was that I didn’t miss the bus for once.”

“Yeah, I hate when that happens.” The big man suddenly speaks again. Lance realizes that it’s his turn now, and he’s wondering if he’s just going to start right away, much like Keith had tried to do.

He looks around as everyone is greeting Keith, and he waits until the room is quiet before he speaks. “Hello, everyone. I’m Sendak Epsilon. Call me just Sendak. I work for a demolition company, and I am also a gym instructor. The reason why I am here is because I have a very difficult time controlling myself when I get provoked. My favorite food is pot roast, and my favorite movie is _Babe._ ”

“...The pig movie?” Shiro questions.

“Yeah, what’s it to you?” he mutters.

“No, it’s not a bad thing. I like that movie, too,” he insists. “I just haven’t seen it in a long time.”

“Nice.” He crosses his arms. “Also, one good thing that happened to me today was that my coffee that I ordered was made right, and I didn’t drop my pastry again.”

“That’s lovely,” Coran insists. “Now that we all know each other, I would like to resume our session by going through Lesson One. And that is finding out what exactly provokes your anger. What gets you mad? What grinds your gears and frustrates you the most? What stresses you out?”

“Everything,” Shiro blurts out, which makes a couple them chuckle.

“That’s a little too broad, Shiro, but good try!” Coran smiles. “I mean specifics. There’s just that one thing, or more, that immediately gets under your skin.”

“Like density?” Zarkon looks over. “I get extremely aggravated when I have to say the same things over and over again, and I _know_ they can hear me and they’re just not taking my questions or advice seriously.”

“Me too!” Lance gasps.

“Oh, look, something in common.” Coran deadpans while he regains his train of thought. “Right! Well, repetition for some people can get aggravating, much like Zarkon here has described. And aggravation can lead to a fit of rage. What other things make you mad?”

Allura then takes a crack at it. “When people expect too much of you?” she inquires. “Meaning, they want you to live up to this role you can’t fulfill. And if you don’t reach it, then you’re just not trying hard enough? Or you’re not of any worth.”

That strikes a chord within Lance. He has the same exactly problem in his life. It’s probably a different situation compared to what Allura is actually thinking, but she’s right in the ballpark! He’s got a lot more in common with these people than he realizes.

“You raise a great point, Allura. And I would like to take this time to also bring up that with anger comes other negative emotions. These negative emotions can include anxiety, stress, and even depression. There are many different combinations on a broad spectrum that can cause difficulties controlling anger or rage. And it’s okay to be angry about circumstances, but we all have to learn when enough is enough. That’s why we’re all here.”

As he hears murmurs of agreement, Lance just stares at the ground. He never wants to admit it when he is wrong or when someone tells him that he has a problem of any kind. That gets right under his skin, among other things that are crushing him in his life. But right now, he has trouble admitting the very real and true thing that is bothering him right now.

He has a problem.

 

_“Lance, what are you doing?”_

_Startled_ out of his trance, Lance flinches and almost knocks down the display of oranges. He clutches his chest to try and stop the pounding in his heart. He looks over to his friend that had startled him with a frown.

“Hunk, why’d you do that?”

“Because it’s nearly quarter after ten, and the fruit displays aren’t done.”

He groans as he gets back to his business. “Sorry. I know, I’m holding everyone up over here.”

“Hey man, it’s cool.” Hunk helps him out with the produce section every night that he works, and although they definitely need to spend more time together outside of work, they both enjoy the company. “So, how’d it go at the anger management thing?”

Lance sighs heavily. “We all introduced ourselves and started going over what makes us mad. I’m not sure if it’s like an... anonymous thing, where I can’t talk about what we said during the thing.”

He shrugs. “I guess it kinda works like that.”

Lance moves away from the oranges and fixes up the apples, reorganizing them by type. “How many times do we have to tell these uncultured swine that there is a _huge_ difference between a Fuji apple and a Cortland?!” he groans.

“They don’t care,” Hunk frowns. “An apple’s just an apple to them.”

“God, I wish that were me.”

Hunk starts to laugh over that, despite Lance’s monotone response. He checks to make sure that all the different produce items are in their proper places. He sees the lights being shut off in the Meat and Seafood departments, signaling that it’s almost time to go.

“Hunk, do you think I’m an angry person?”

“Where’d that come from?” he chuckles.

He grimaces at the jab. “I’m serious. I feel like people have this impression of me because I’m in anger management. But I’m not _angry._ Am I?”

They start pushing their carts back to the stock room, and he doesn’t appreciate the silence as Hunk is hesitating. He diverts his face while they resituate the back before every worker gets out and heads back to their cars.

Hunk finally says something after that. “I don’t think that you’re angry, per say.”

“Wow, thanks for keeping me in suspense, dude,” he scoffs as he climbs into Hunk’s truck.

“Sorry,” he grins while he starts to head off. “I don’t think you’re angry. You can be a bit... passive aggressive, sometimes, but you’re not angry.”

“Passive aggressive? That’s just as bad.” He hides his face in his hands. “I don’t want people thinking that I’m a passive aggressive person.”

He shrugs. “You’re taking that first step by seeking out counseling, so I wouldn’t worry about people making odd impressions of you. Don’t let others get to you.”

“Easier said than done.” He looks out the window at the street lamps. “I recognized a couple guys there. They live on our street.”

“Yeah?” He doesn’t look over and just focuses on driving. “That’s pretty cool. You should befriend them. I think making new friends will help you, too.”

Lance ponders the idea. He figures that maybe they won’t even find him interesting. The two of them seem more serious about getting help than he is, especially Keith. They’re probably more successful than he is and more engaging in their lives. And what does he have? He lives with his mom and stepdad in his childhood bedroom and isn’t even in school. He doesn’t think he’ll ever go to college.

“Earth to Lance,” he then hears Hunk interject when the truck starts moving. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow, same time as usual.”

“Sure thing,” he sighs while getting out. He watches him go further down the road and stays outside, taking in the sweet breeze of the midnight air.

He is reluctant about going back into the house. Back to reality... It’s not that he hates his folks, not at all. But he can get the sense that they’re judging his lack of accomplishments. At least, he can sense that with his stepdad’s family and his uncles. Even his older siblings are more accomplished than he is, and he can’t even find success in anything outside of his two jobs.

When he can finally bring himself to go inside, he goes straight into his room. He wishes that he can at least move out, so that he can show his parents that yes, he _can_ make it out there without their help. He is twenty-four years old and still lives with them, and to him, that is one of the greatest failures that he’s ever subjected himself to.

At least he has a home, though. And it’s not that money is the big problem with him getting out of here. He has over ten thousand dollars saved up in his bank accounts after working for so long and not really spending any of his earnings. He just can’t find the motivation to do it. Maybe he’s just adapting to only being seen as a disappointment, but genuinely he’s just holding back his own potential. He doesn’t want to give his family another chance or reason to ridicule him, though. If he doesn’t make it on his own, then he’ll never hear the end of it. His mother, bless her soul, is probably one of the only relatives that doesn’t constantly roll her eyes or bring up his lack of accomplishments.

For the time being, he’s just trying to figure out what he wants in life, for the most part. And he doesn’t know if this whole anger management thing that he has gotten himself into is going to make or break him. Only his mama knew about all of that, since he was afraid that once it got wind of the rest of his folks then that would be one _more_ thing to bring up and roll their eyes over. He’s always so cautious, and it’s one of those things that he can’t really confide in anyone with.

Maybe, once he gives in to the idea that he can confidently seek help for his ailments, whenever that may be, he will feel a little bit better about himself.


	3. A Shaky Impression

_Keith doesn’t necessarily drown his sorrows._ He occasionally goes to bars to get a big of a break from life sometimes. It was another long day at work, and he can’t whittle to calm himself down. If he looks at one more piece of wood, he thinks he’s going to scream. He already started looking through different news clippings to find a different job, because he’s taking Kolivan’s current threats seriously. He doesn’t know what he’d do to get money if he gets fired.

So far, using alcohol to ease his tension is working. It’s doing its job just fine, but the one thing that’s under his skin tonight is that he’s awfully lonely. However, the only guaranteed way that he’d get with someone is if he takes them home with him and regrets it in the morning. Why does he keep thinking of doing things that he knows will hurt him sooner or later? He can’t tell. He’s hoping that he can think of something much healthier to soothe him further. If he ever had any friends or told his uncle about his bad coping mechanisms, they’d rightfully put him in his place.

He sees a few people from his anger management group at the bar. He knew this town is pretty small, but he didn’t think it was _that_ small. He should’ve put two and two together when seeing the couple of guys that actually lived in his neighborhood.

There’s Shiro, the teacher. He looks tense all over while talking to what Keith assumes to be his friend. His friend is smiling and keeps lightly shoving his shoulder, but Shiro just won’t let up. At least he has someone to confide in.

Then there’s the guy that yells at old ladies. Lance, that’s his name. He’s with a couple friends of his, laughing and carrying on. Keith’s glad that at least _some_ people around here are having a good time. He stays right on his stool and asks the tender for his fourth shot of the night.

He doesn’t know if he wants to pace himself tonight. He doesn’t want to end up stumbling home and missing the bus again, but he also wants to drink enough so that he forgets about today’s woes. Then again, he does have work tomorrow. At least he thinks he does.

Maybe he would actually have friends if he wasn’t so abrasive.

_No._

Clearly, he hasn’t had enough alcohol.

“Hit me again,” he slurs after he quickly downs the shot he’d just gotten.

He starts thinking about what he wants to do tonight. He’s getting himself drunk, he’d might as well have some fun. He once again fancies the idea about hooking up with a guy, but his better judgment convinces him otherwise. He’s already had several shaky one night stands this month and doesn’t need another to add to the pile. Right?

His body does all the work for him while he turns his mind off. He walks over to the booth where Shiro is with his friend. He’s about to make sure they get on the right track together. Coran did say that they should all try and befriend each other outside of the group, after all. And don’t worry, that’s not the only thing he remembered from that day.

“Heyyy, Shiro!” he grins as he slumps over the side of the booth.

He watches Shiro stutter while looking over at him. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting him to suddenly appear. And his friend quirks up an eyebrow while giving the others confused glances.

“Oh. You’re Keith, from Coran’s Anger Management Group,” he beams. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Right? Me neither,” he snorts drunkenly. “Is this seat taken?”

“Uhh... No, go ahead. Sit.” As he lets Keith sit down, Shiro turns back to his friend. “Matt, this is Keith. And Keith, this is my friend Matt Holt. We work together at the school.”

“Nice to meet ya!” They shake hands while Keith looks wantonly at the bar again. “It’s a pain in the ass, going through all this therapy stuff, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t call it a pain in the ass, necessarily,” Shiro frowns. “But it’s hard for me to talk about the stuff that’s going on in my life. After all, I don’t know anyone that well.”

“Let’s change that,” Keith muses. “I’m Keith Kogane, and not only am I a cabinet maker, but I also really like to carve wood into little designs and figurines. Now, there’s a word for that. I don’t really remember it. It’s on the tip of my tongue, and I say it all the time...”

“...Whittling?”

“Whittling!” he gasps and his face lights up. “Of course! Thank you, Matt! And it’s not easy to do either. You have no idea how many times I cut myself during the process. But it’s a part of the job. Just look at my damn hands!”

He takes his fingerless gloves off, showing the different cuts and light scars from when he carved too close or lost grip of the knife while at work. He knows that things like this happen all the time, but he’s so tired of constantly being questioned as to why he’s cutting himself that he just covers them up. They just don’t understand that it’s part of the process.

“That’s a lot of mishaps,” Shiro chuckles. “Does it happen a lot when you lose focus?”

“I guess so,” he shrugs. “Sometimes I think about other stuff while doing it, but you’re bound to get hurt the first few attempts. Looks like I just keep messing up.” He looks over at him again. “Sometimes I’m just not all that focused, but that’s not a part of the process. That’s a me thing.”

“Sounds like you may also need a bit more patience,” he teases while staring at his glass. “Maybe it won’t help with the you thing, but it can help during times when you’re frustrated with whatever you’re working on.”

“Sounds like you should take your own advice, Takashi,” Matt sputters and elbows his side while laughing.

“I guess so.” As Keith shrugs, he grimaces when seeing what exactly Shiro’s drinking. “Are you drinking water? Dude, it’s a _bar!”_

“I know, but I’m the designated driver tonight.” Shiro points to his wristband on his prosthetic. “Someone’s gotta take these kids home.”

Matt scoffs. “Who’re you calling a kid? What, just because you’re thirty, you gotta call everyone around you kids?”

Shiro is _thirty?_

“You mean you got other people here?” Keith asks. “You’re quite the social character!”

“Not exactly.” He gives Keith a small smile. “It’s just me, Matt, and his sibling, Pidge. They’re sitting over with Lance and their other friend, Hunk. He’s the other designated driver.”

“Oh, you knew Lance before the meetings?” He tilts his head.

Matt shrugs. “Not really. Pidge never brought their friends over.”

“They talked about him in passing, whenever I did see them. The first time I actually saw Lance was when I moved into the neighborhood with—”

Shiro cuts himself off and looks down at the table for a couple moments.

“With whom?”

“Ah. No one,” he chuckles. “I just mean, when I moved into the neighborhood with high hopes of fitting in.”

There’s one other thing that Keith can gather about Shiro. He’s a shit liar. He’s not going to press on that wound further, though, because clearly he doesn’t want to talk about it.

“How about I go and get another shot, while you two get back to your conversation? Sorry to be of trouble.”

Keith hears something along the lines of “It’s no trouble at all,” but he doesn’t stay too long to listen. He gets back over to the bar and asks the tender to hit him again. This probably is what he’s going to cap off at tonight, because he doesn’t want to run out of money again, not this close to payday. This final shot helps him feel a lot lighter, his face feeling as hot as his throat is from the burn of taking one more drink.

Now his attention is on Lance and his two friends. He sees the big man that’s also wearing a designated driver wristband, and Pidge much be the smaller person that looks like they can be Matt’s clone. Makes sense. He struggles a bit more to find his footing than the previous time he left his barstool.

Lance immediately takes notice of this, and he gestures to his friends to look over. “Oh yeah, _that’s_ Keith.”

“Wha’s that s’posed to mean?” he frowns.

“Oh, nothing bad,” he insists. “I was just telling my friends about the different people I recognize from counseling that are here tonight.” His cheeks are flushed, possibly from the alcohol he’s also consuming. “By the way, these are my friends, Hunk and Pidge.”

“Hey, man,” Hunk grins as he and Keith shake hands.

Pidge gives a small wave after fixing their glasses. “Sup.”

“Hiii.” He leans over the table and props himself up with his hands. “‘m so drunk,” he laughs.

“I can tell,” he chuckles. “What the hell are you drinking?”

“I don’t even know an’more,” he snorts. “Some hard shit.”

“Yeah?” Hunk scoots back and pats at the seat next to him. “Hey, come sit down.”

“Nahh, I’ll be fine,” he assures him. “After all, I feel bad cutting into your ‘scussion. J’st wanted to say ‘hi.’”

His mind is starting to grow fuzzy. That’s the exact effect that he wanted, but now that he’s been talking and getting along with the others much better than he expected, he’s starting to regret it. The last thing he can really remember happening inside the bar other than blurs is Hunk trying to talk to him about... he doesn’t know, something about wood?

He remembers talking about wood with Shiro, so it might just be him trying to fill the puzzle pieces with what little he can conjure up in his brain.

The music isn’t exactly loud in the bar, but for whatever reason the ambience in here is now amplified. It makes him get up, he definitely remembers that, and he nearly falls over as he tries to slur out the lyrics to a song he heard only once or twice on the radio. That’s an embarrassing concept all on its own. He doesn’t need to fudge it up in order to come to that conclusion.

There were other anger management people there that he kind of blotted out of his head up until now. The next time his memory comes back to him is when that one shit lord comes up from his seat to give him a stern talking to him. At this point, he can also hear all different people telling him that he needed to sit down and relax. He can’t recall if it was Shiro’s group or Lance’s group telling him that. Maybe it was all of them.

“Why don’t you stop making a jackass of yourself and let people have a good time?”

“Hey, Throk, that wasn’t necessary!”

That was Shiro. And Throk is the name of the shit lord, Keith realizes.

“Why don’tcha stop being such a stickler, ruinin’ my fun?” Keith frowns while trying to keep his footing.

Where does he remember seeing Throk before? He recognizes seeing him somewhere else. Another bar, maybe? In the supermarket? Walking down the street?

“Well, this is one wicked way to try and hook up with a guy you’re never gonna see again.”

_Oh._

_Now,_ he remembers.

His fists clench, and his memory blurs out again. There is punching involved. Whether he actually hit Throk or not, he doesn’t remember. But he’s gotten hit, for sure. Once above his eyebrow and the other time in his gut when he tried lunging at him. The two of them are thrown out of the bar, and all he can hear is a slew of insults directed towards him that he doesn’t remember what they were about.

And he’s picked up. Maybe by the big man, because the only other person that he can think of actually picking him up is Shiro, and he’s in the front of their band of misfits. They’re all around him while Keith is trying to string trains of thought together in a way that seems to make sense to him.

He throws up, hopefully on the ground and not on any unsuspecting victims. After vomiting though, his head starts clearing up again. He can actually think about what’s going on around him.

“Jeez, he’s gonna get a black eye.”

Keith groans and tries to seek more warmth in whoever’s holding him. His eyes are still closed as he’s carried into a car. Shiro’s car. He hears the others rearranging their rides, and Hunk is going to take Matt and Pidge home while Lance and Shiro ride together with Keith. After all, the three of them are the ones that live much closer to each other than the rest.

He feels his head rest in someone’s lap, and he guesses correctly that it’s Lance’s because there’s no way that _he’s_ driving when Shiro is the only sober one in the car. Yeah, he drank water the whole night. Fucking water... what a guy.

“What was that all about with Throk?” Lance frowns while moving hair out of Keith’s sweaty face.

Keith can’t bring himself to answer the question right away. “My fault, really. I was really drunk again. I tried hitting on him one night... and he’s straight, so of course he made a huge deal about not wanting it. He kinda... embarrassed me in front of the whole bar, and the owner banned me from going back there when I tried to fight Throk. It was messy.”

“Asshole,” Lance snarks. “Maybe anger management will teach him not to be a complete douche canoe.”

“Douche canoe. That’s a very accurate insult, yes,” he croaks when closing his eyes again. “Why are you guys helping me, anyways?”

“You had way too much to drink,” he hears Shiro comment as he’s driving. “We didn’t feel comfortable having you wander home by yourself.”

Oh _god,_ Keith just realizes the car’s moving now, and it immediately unsettles his stomach again. He clutches it while his gag reflexes get ready. “It hasn’t stopped me before.”

There’s an uneasy silence after he says that, and he stays quiet with his eyes closed. He hears the two of them talking to him again, but he can’t really communicate with them anymore. He’s starting to get far too tired and too sick to open his mouth. He quickly blacks out again, but this time it’s because he’s finally gone unconscious.

 

 _The punishing hangover that hits him_ the next day makes him feel like absolute shit. And for a good while, he doesn’t remember anything that happened the night before. Not a damn thing. He hates when that happens.

As he gets up he notices a couple notes sticking to his nightstand. But unfortunately, he doesn’t really take the time to actually read them, because his focus is on something a lot more sinister: the clock.

“I’m late!” he shouts as he falls right out of bed.

He groans while weights start piling on top of his head immediately as he stands up. But he _has_ to get through this hangover like a man. A stupid, exceedingly disappointing man, but a man nonetheless. Just as he’s getting dressed, he notices that there’s a glass of water and the pain pills he usually takes when he has bad headaches.

He feels a bit of relief as he takes it. He’s never reminded himself to take it before, so maybe someone was with him last night.

Oh, now he remembers. Lance and Shiro were here. They brought him home. No, they didn’t—

They really didn’t. There would’ve been more evidence of it in his room. Thank goodness for that, though. He doesn’t think he’d be able to stay within their anger management group if they did. He doesn’t want to immediately dwell on this act of kindness too long. He’s already been late for work far too many times. He doesn’t want to stay on Kolivan’s bad side.

He takes the sticky notes with him and hurries to slip his jacket on while running out. He tries ignoring that absolute excruciating pain he still feels in his head, and for once he makes it to the bus just in time. He sits down and finally reads the notes.

**Hey Keith, we left these for you. Hope you get well soon. I hope we can hang out together one day when we’re not drunk.**

  * **Lance**



**Keith, don’t be afraid to contact us any time. We’re all in this group together. Allow us to help you in any way we can.**

  * **Shiro**



Their phone numbers are on the bottom of each note. How can they be this kind to him? He’s done nothing to help them, and he’s pretty sure that he made a complete fool of himself in front of them last night.

Wait.

What doesn’t Shiro mean by allowing them to help? What did Keith reveal last night? What did he _say?_ God, he’s trying to remember, and he can’t! _Think, Keith, think!_ He’s still shaking while he’s trying to figure it out and getting off the bus.

Then he realizes that he alluded to the idea that he’s so used to be being all alone that it’s second nature to drunkenly take himself home and suffer while waiting for sobriety. His face grows pale while he’s working on today’s project with Ulaz. Now he’s sure that they only pity him and don’t really see him as a new friend. He’s already become convinced of it.

 

 _After work that day, Keith walks_ across the street to Shiro’s place. He just saw his car pull up, and he’s hoping that he’ll have a chance to explain himself. He’s also wondering how Shiro can afford such a nice house on one income in a neighborhood that’s for the most part expensive.

He’s intimidated when knocking on the door, and he’s about to walk away before finally he answers. Shiro stands in front of him in the middle of taking off his jacket. Now that he’s looking at him up close when not under the influence, he can’t get over how... undeniably handsome he is. _Wow._

“Hello, Keith.” He’s also outrageously polite, for someone that witnessed his shit behavior at the bar last night. “Is everything okay?”

“Actually, I need to ask you about something. About last night... I know there was probably a lot of things I said that don’t make too much sense. Or things that may be concerning but shouldn’t have said. Like... me regularly being by myself, even when I’m visiting a bar. That’s just to use something as an example.”

He shakes his head. “No, no. It’s okay to vent every once in a while. It sounds like you don’t have an outlet for yourself. I’m sure Lance can agree with me that we’d be happy to help out.”

He laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “Sure, that sounds nice. I just don’t want you guys to only be friends with me because you pity me.”

“That’s not the reason at all,” Shiro insists. “I’m worried about that as well, by the way. About being pitied, I mean. I’m embarrassed about of a lot of my own issues, but the most important thing is that we’re all trying to get help together.”

“Yeah... but that still doesn’t help all too much with the whole embarrassment thing.”

He gives Keith a sweet smile. “I’m just glad you’re alright after last night. And if you ever wanna go somewhere or need drinking buddies, you can give us a call. You have our numbers, right?”

“Yeah, I do.” He blushes when realizing. “You guys didn’t have to do all that to help me last night. So, thanks.”

“Any time. And it’s a pleasure to help you. I’m glad I’ve gotten to know you two outside the group.”

Keith moves some of his hair behind his ear, shuffling his feet. It’s a rarity that he’s shy, but when the fit starts, it’s hard to keep himself from feeling flustered. “Yes. Let’s just hope we can hang out again when we’re all sober.”

“I like that idea,” he says. “I’ll see you in a couple days, at the next meeting.”

“Yeah. I’ll be there. Bye, Shiro.” He steps back as they both wave goodbye. Even after Shiro closes the door, Keith still lingers by the mailbox. He’s mystified.

He’s thought about going to Lance’s door again, but knowing he doesn’t think that it’s the best idea to show up at a house with tons of people in it uninvited. So instead, he decides to shoot him a text as he steps inside his house again.

**Hey Lance, it’s Keith. thanks for all your help last night. let’s see each other again soon.**

 

He sits down on the couch to relax, and almost immediately he gets a reply. He looks at his phone to read it, and seeing what Lance writes back makes him smile with a knowing shake of his head.

**nice nice, let’s! wouldn’t miss it for the world**


	4. Trouble in Paradise

_“And so, in review, who can_ tell me why efforts of Reformation after the Civil War are relatively moot in the South, from what we have been discussing about the United States’ race relations in the early 1900s?”

All of Shiro’s students are looking at him like he just spoke to them in Gibberish. And the first thing that pops into his mind is how outrageously unproductive his last period class is. He can’t get a single lesson into their heads without spanning his plans out over the course of two days. None of them are entirely eager to learn, but this shouldn’t be that complicated of a question!

“...Anyone?” he sighs as he looks at his group. All twenty-two of them aren’t bothering to raise their hands. Why has the public school system failed them all this devastatingly? “This is the fourth question on your review packet.”

He doesn’t want a mental switch to be flipped. His patience has been tried several times already, today. Slav, a physics teacher from down the hall, argued with him over the changes of Shiro stealing his seat in the teacher’s lounge. Has that _really_ been bugging him _all_ day?

He’s had enough of just staring at the students and having dead eyes looking back at him. He puts his copy of the packet down.

“Jim Crowe,” he frowns. “It’s the Jim Crowe laws and how they still continued to racially divide not just the South, but the original Union States as well. It’s one of the biggest examples of institutionalized racism and continual prejudice that shaped what would then be known as the segregation laws. C’mon, guys. We’ve gone _over_ this for the past week. This lesson should’ve been second nature to you since last Thursday.”

They’re all still giving him those cryptic, spaced out stares. It’s incredibly frustrating, especially when this class has a group of students that are so obnoxious that he can’t _stand_ them.

“Um, Mr. Shirogain.”

Speaking of...

He hears the culprit’s friends start chuckling at that bad pronunciation of his name. His eye twitches. “Shirogane, Lotor. It’s Mr. Shirogane. Or... Mr. S.” He almost sounds defeated.

Lotor continues his question after lowering his hand, a smug look on his face. “Mr. S, maybe we’d pay more attention if you weren’t so controlling and bummed all the time.”

The girl sitting next to him, Ezor, decides to chime in while grinning. “Yeah, how do you expect us to learn when you’re constantly yelling at us? Isn’t this border line abusive?”

Of course, the immature brats start laughing. He loathes this group so much.

“I don’t—” Shiro cuts himself off to clear his throat when he starts to raise his voice. “I-I don’t _yell._ I just want you all to pass. This whole group failed the last two quizzes. And one of them I gave you three days to study for. The test on Chapter One is _tomorrow._ ”

“Can’t we do it on Friday, Mr. S?” Lotor groans. “Everyone else in other classes have their tests on Friday.”

“The reason why I don’t do that is because every other teacher in the school does. It gives you a chance to pan out your workload.”

He sighs. “Clearly, we need another day to prepare, so why don’t we just take it on Friday?”

Shiro feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and tenses. No one would be trying to call him during work unless it was an emergency. He’s growing tense and looks at the clock. There’s still two minutes left of class time.

He groans and looks over. “Look, guys, if I push it back an extra day, you will be a day behind from the rest of my US History 2 classes. Do you really want to have the test on Friday?”

“Yes,” they all shout, sounding exasperated. Is this class _really_ going to give him this hard of a time? He hates the disrespect and is still trying to figure out how to combat it.

“Alright,” he frowns and throws the review down on his desk. “Go over your study guides. We will be reviewing one last time tomorrow, and I _mean_ one last time. On Friday, we will have our test on Chapter One.”

The bell rings for the end of the day, and his students immediately step out. It’s almost a routine for them. They don’t actually care about their work, and knowing that is a devastating thought for Shiro. He’s had difficult classes before, but this isn’t helping him at all. Now’s not the time to have more stress from a difficult class forced onto him.

When he checks the missed call on his phone, he grows pale when realizing that it’s his dad’s nurse. He lives in a senior community the next down over. He knows that whenever he gets a call from him, it’s for nothing good. He stumbles to get his jacket and bag, barely able to conform himself enough to appear presentable. He doesn’t care. He has to go. This can be for _anything._

He rushes to his car and nearly floors it out of the school parking lot. There’s still so much that he needs to do, but he has to put getting to his dad’s house right up to the top of his priority list. Of course, what he doesn’t realize as he tries driving northbound to the next town, is that everyone is on the road now on Main Street.

“Oh, fucking come _on!_ ” he growls and takes his frustrations out on the steering wheel. He glares straight ahead. The line just will not _move._

He’s been at a constant stop-and-go pace for the past hour. Apparently, he soon finds out through a traffic announcement on the radio, there was an accident further along the state route he needed to be on that held the whole line up. It’s very unfortunate, and he tries to fight his increased frustration by not taking it out on the cause of the traffic block.

Being stuck in a state where hardly anyone knows how to drive, he’s already annoyed enough just dealing with two other lanes of traffic. No one signals before passing, no one bothers to look in their blind spots, and Shiro’s just a little too horn happy with the way everyone constantly moves around him. His nostrils flare the angrier he gets, and he doesn’t have any more patience.

It takes a total of almost two hours to get to the neighborhood, and he’s incredibly irritated. He hurried over to the house, having to slow to a crawl because of the seniors’ atrocious parking on the sides of the streets. It’s incredibly pathetic.

He pulls into the driveway and nervously rushes in. “Hello? Dad?”

It’s been five months since his mother passed away. Plus, his father’s doctors have told him that the prognosis for him will now be no more than half a year. It’s been an incredibly difficult year in the Shirogane household, overall.

“Dad? Antok?” He calls for his nurse, as well, hoping that at least one of them would answer.

Antok answers him from upstairs. “Come on up! Your dad’s in his room.”

He rushes up the steps, hoping that nothing is too wrong. “What happened?”

His father’s resting in bed, looking as frail as ever. About three years ago, he couldn’t remember how to speak English anymore. Shiro’s always been using that language much more frequently than in Japanese, and he sometimes forgets certain cross translations for even the most basic words. His dad keeps him from being too rusty, though.

After a few seconds of listening to his father stammer out an excuse, Shiro manages to understand _“Just a fall.”_

“You _fell?!”_ His eyes widened as he looked at Antok. “Is he okay?”

“He tried getting into the bath without me today, and in the process, he slipped. I’ve gotten into contact with his doctor, and he’s okay. We’re gonna keep an eye on him. I called you before calling his doctor.”

He sighs softly. “Thank goodness, he’s okay.” He looks at his dad again, who’s making an attempt to sit up. _“Dad, you gotta be more careful. Antok’s here to take care of you.”_

His dad grimaces. _“Nonsense! I don’t need help, Kashi.”_ He’s voice is raspy. _“You worry too much.”_

_“Dad...”_ he huffs and sits on the bed with him. _“That’s not the point.”_

_“Kashi, get your shoes off!”_ he then scolds. _“Where are your manners?”_

He blushes while removing his shoes, setting them down on the floor beside the bed. _“Ah, sorry. It’s been a long day.”_

_“No excuses,”_ he mutters while finally settling down on the bed.

Antok meanwhile has gone downstairs already, probably taking care of dinner.

_“This Saturday, we’re going to GAC Mart,”_ Shiro says to his dad, speaking slowly while mentally translating his words out. _“You’d better work out a grocery list with Antok until then. And don’t forget your Food Stamps card this time.” He gives him a teasing smile._

_“I’m not going forget.”_ He crosses his arms. _“How’s Richard? Why doesn’t he visit anymore?”_

The shock of pain that goes through his chest is unmistakable as he hears his name. _“We’re not together anymore. We’re divorced. You know that, Dad.”_

_“Oh.”_ The way he falters hurts even worse. _“That’s a shame.”_

Shiro bows his head sadly before straightening himself up, getting off the bed. _“I gotta get home, Dad. I’m really glad you’re alright. I’ll be back on Saturday, okay? Save the date.”_

He watches him slump back on the bed and feels guilty. He has too much on his plate, and he wishes that he can spend more time with him than just one day out of the week.

_“Okay,”_ his dad yawns. _“Bye, Takashi.”_

_“Bye, Dad. Love you.”_ He grabs his shoes and heads back downstairs.

He hates constantly leaving his father, and there are days where he doesn’t know if he’s going to see him alive again. Today just so happens to be one of those days, and it doesn’t help that his dad fell today. He lingers by the steps, already missing him.

He knows it’s going to be difficult for him to continue living on his own, but he doesn’t want to put him in a nursing home. He also can’t even afford Antok, let alone a home. He sometimes even gets scared thinking about the inevitable future. His hair’s still turning white over it, among many other ailments and anxieties that are messing with his brain.

He writes out a check for Antok before leaving, and the ride home is terribly brutal. He’s caught in yet another traffic jam. Even though this isn’t anything new, he hates it. He despises being in standstills, and his aux cord for his phone is failing him today, only playing the music on one side of the car. He hates constantly twisting the audio jack, especially when he needs to focus on the road.

And of course, much like he didn’t want to do in the first place, he thinks about his dad’s fate again. He wonders if he’s okay when no one’s at the house. Does he feel alone in there? Is he safe? Is he mad at Shiro for not being there as often as he’d like to? Shiro is sick of panicking over his condition when that should be the last thing on his mind.

He hits the steering wheel as he’s forced to stop at yet another stop light cycle. This must be the fourth one he’s been in. This is going to be such a long evening trying to get back. He just drowns out the ticking of the clock and stares out in front of him, hoping that the less amount of moments he spends checking the time, the quicker this line of traffic will feel like.

 

_“You have four new messages.”_

_Shiro drowns out the voicemail as_ he sets up his dinner plate and sits by his computer to go over his lesson plans for tomorrow. He sits there hunched over with his reading glasses constantly lowering further down the bridge of his nose. He hates rescheduling his whole week around one class, and now his last period has a completely different schedule than the rest of his groups.

He rolls his eyes knowingly when getting a message from the school about a reminder that he needs to go a teacher’s convention during the weekend of October. He’d rather not go, but it’s mandatory.

_“Message three: Today at three thirty-four PM.”_

_“Takashi, it’s Miranda again.”_

He feels the blood draining from his face. That’s his former mother-in-law.

_“Richard tells me that you still have his clothes at your house. He’s going to need them back, and he tells me that he’ll be stopping by your house this evening to pick them up.”_

He tenses up at the thought. He doesn’t want that douchebag coming back here. He hurries to pick the phone up and call her back, and of _course_ she doesn’t answer right away. She’s making this a lot harder to take in.

_“Yes?”_

Shiro takes his reading glasses off and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Miranda, Richard doesn’t have to come here and get them. I’ll have everything ready for him so he doesn’t have to come in.”

_“Nonsense,”_ she scoffs. He’s convinced that she never liked him. _“He’s fully capable of visiting if he wants. It’s still his house.”_

“He hasn’t paid a single portion of the mortgage since he left!” He fidgets while getting up from his seat. “Miranda, let him know that I’ll have his stuff for him right by the door. There’s no need to make things more complicated than they need to be.”

_“Takashi, I believe you’re the one that’s making things more complicated than they need to be here. He should already be there by now, so it’s a little too late to make delayed requests.”_

As if on cue, he hears a knock right by the door. He feels his hunched shoulders shudder while looking down the hall near the kitchen. He shakes his head and hangs up on Miranda while she’s still nagging at him. It’s not like she’s been listening to a word he’s said the whole time they were on that call.

He steps over and stares at the door for a long, hard moment before finally answering. He’s debating whether or not he wants to slam it right away. There’s no reason why he should keep dealing with him after making it very clear that he didn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

“Richard.” He frowns as he steps back to let him in.

“Shiro.” He makes a beeline straight for the bedroom. “I was wondering where my college sweaters were.”

He sighs heavily. “Closet. Right in front. And you still have your work boots in there that you never packed.” He stands aside and watches his ex-husband forcefully shove all their hangers aside to find what he’s looking for. “Since you’re, I dunno, making such a huge deal about getting your things back, do you think you can give me my books back?”

He doesn’t answer right away. “I don’t have them anymore. I sold them to Goodwill.”

Shiro gnaws at his lip. “Those were my mom’s books from Japan!”

“What are you trying to say? You hate charity?” he snorts.

He scoffs and stays by the bed. “Pompous.”

“Jesus, Takashi, you ruined the damn sleeve!” He’d taken out one of the old college hoodies, pulling on the right sleeve that Shiro has tied into a knot frequently when he didn’t want to wear his prosthetic to bed or around the house. “It’s all stretched and wrinkled. Do you gotta make everything difficult?”

His fists clench as he watches him get his things. He doesn’t even know why he kept them for so long, or why he’s choosing to keep quiet right now, even while Richard’s verbally tearing him apart. It’s just a habit he has, harboring his feelings until one day he just can’t take it anymore and he stresses even over the smallest things. It’s a dirty habit to have but a habit nonetheless.

Richard grabs that flannel jacket that no longer even smells like it belongs to him. Shiro’s been wearing that one so much that it comforts him, making him completely forget that he doesn’t actually own it. There’s wrinkles on that sleeve, as well. And Ray’s shoes are in tow as he walks out of the bedroom.

“Are you sure this time that you’re not hiding anything else, Takashi?” he frowns.

“Just get out,” he mutters, his blood boiling further still. He still feels like he’s going to explode, and he was just about to relax before hearing that cursed voicemail. It’s going to take him another good hour to get back into the swing of things.

Richard rolls his eyes while going out the door, but before he can leave, Shiro stops him one last time.

“By the way, Richard,” he calls, “I’m trying to sell the house. Seeing as you’re gone, I can’t afford it anymore. So next time, if you feel like you’ve left something behind, I’ll just sell it to help cover the costs of my new places. Just like you have done to my own stuff that’s more valuable than these dingy old clothes.”

He scoffs with a lopsided smirk on his face. “Yeah, you say that, but you’re gonna soften up. I know you. That’s also real classy of you to make this all about you instead of focusing on what happened to make us go through that divorce in the first place.”

Shiro is so ready to hit him. He’s got his fists still tightly clenched, and his eyes are burning right through him. But all he can do in relent and sigh in defeat, saying, “I don’t know why I married you.”

“I’m thinking the same thing myself.” Richard leaves in that instant.

Damn it. Shiro had the perfect chance to combat how verbally cruel his ex-husband behaved during the last year of their marriage, but yet again he chickens out. There are so many things that he only wishes he can tell him. For now, he has to just live in his world of “What Ifs” while figuring out how to both move out of this house and finds his parents a better place to live. One hurdle at a time.

 

_During the next session, Shiro keeps_ quiet while the others are socializing. Lance talks with Allura, and he does manage to get Keith to vocalize, but Shiro isn’t feeling up to it today. He’s not the only one, though, since Sendak and Zarkon look as cold as ever.

Coran begins his meeting by handing out sheets to each client. “Today we will be doing a little activity together. Last time we gave examples of what makes us angry, but today we will be sharing things that make us happy.”

“Why would we do this?” Throk mumbles. “Isn’t this an ‘anger’ management group?”

“It is,” he nods, “but the goal here is to help you control that anger. A way to help counteract it is to have a method to stay calm. Together we’ll be creating a happy place for us to go to when our stressors and triggers weigh us down.”

What _does_ make Shiro happy? He doesn’t think that he has a real answer to give the group. He’ll have to sit it out and let others share. Maybe he can get some inspiration off of them.

“I’ll start,” Coran insists. “My happy place is in the sky. I love the feeling of being in the clouds. Whenever I get panicky, thinking of that helps me so much.”

Shiro ponders Coran’s happy thought. Clouds sound nice...

“Right, then. Who’s next?” he then asks.

Surprisingly enough, Sendak raises his hand first.

“A volunteer!” he beams as he gestures to him. “Go ahead, Sendak. What makes you happy?”

He frowns still as he looks at the rest of the group. “Kittens.”

An awkward silence settles in, but Allura breaks it by clicking her tongue and aiming finger guns at him. “Hey. Me too.”

“I see you’ve been paying attention to my posters,” Coran grins as he gestures to either side of the room. He has many cat posters around the room with small phrases of wisdom. “They make me smile, as well.”

“Yeah, guys!” Lance agrees. “I love kittens!”

“If you need any pictures of kittens, I’ve got you covered,” Sendak then continues. It’s the first time he’s been so talkative! “I have four of them. I rescued them and take care of them.”

“I’d love to see!” he beams, shifting closer without a second thought.

Shiro still watches in silence. If he was to say something, he could’ve told them about his cat Mochi that was his best friend up until she passed away after he graduated college. He still had pictures of her, too. Before he’d even have the chance to add to the conversation, it shifts right away to something else.

Zarkon goes next. “I think one thing that makes me happy is thinking about when I was younger,” he says. “I mean, back then I had much more to live for. I don’t even know what could make me feel good right now.”

“Hey, you never know,” Coran insists. “Do you have a specific moment from your past that made you happy?”

“I suppose. That’s for another day.” Clearly, he doesn’t want to talk about it.

“That’s a good enough contribution for today,” he insists. “When you feel like you can talk about it, we’re all ears!” He clasps his hands. “Who’s next?”

Keith raises his hand hesitantly. Even after he’s called on, it looks like he isn’t even sure what to say. “What if you’re not sure of a specific thing that makes you happy? I mean, it’s not like I’m never happy about anything, but I can’t think of what specific things make me feel better.”

“That’s alright,” Coran assures him. “He and Zarkon bring up good points. If you think you can’t find anything specific, or you have a personal situation that makes you happy which you don’t wanna talk about, you have other sessions to prepare or thing it all over. For some people, thoughts of happiness come naturally to them. However, for others it takes time, and that’s part of the process. It’s never too late to share with others, either!”

“I have the same issue as Keith,” Allura starts, “but I think I might have an answer to that question, soon. I’ve been figuring out what I want, and such.”

“That’s great to hear, Allura. Anyone else?”

Lance raises his hand. “I got one. My happy place is spending time with my family. We all have these extravagant dinners together for holidays, and we watched The Office together, too. It’s my favorite show, but now I just watch reruns by myself.”

“I loved The Office,” Zarkon chuckles.

“It’s a bit meh, for me,” Allura shrugs. “I haven’t watched enough to really get into it.”

Shiro tilts his head curiously. He has no idea what they’re talking about. “What’s ‘The Office?’”

Lance gaps and holds his chest in mockery. “You’ve never watched The Office?”

As he nods, Keith shrugs his shoulders. “I’ve never seen it either.”

Lance lets out a forced gasp. “You guys _have_ to! It’s been so long since I’ve binge watched it with a group!”

It sounds like a good idea. Shiro needs to let loose every once in a while. He hasn’t had the energy to have fun lately. He’s ready to say what’s on his mind, but Throk cuts him off before he can.

“Hey, I got a happy thought,” he starts. “I like watching bad movies. They’re great.”

Keith perks up but almost immediately retracts. Shiro knows he wants to say something, and he wants him to join the conversation without worrying about Throk beign judgmental.

“I’m guessing you’ve got your own favorite bad movies?”

Keith nods. “I love Neil Breen movies, and my absolute favorite move, which is not a Neil Breen movie, is The Room.”

Throk shrugs. “Mine’s Birdemic.”

“Have you seen Troll 2?”

“Who hasn’t?” he chuckles.

They’re... bonding!

Shiro guesses that’s the power of being in a group together, even though some of them don’t like each other. It’s fascinating. This is probably the only thing they’ll agree on, but it’s enough to make Shiro feel more confident in speaking up.

He watches the others start laughing about what they have in common. It’s nice to see. It’s relaxing, even.

“Now, there’s still one person that hasn’t gone.” Coran is staring right at him. He’s not being subtle about it at all. “I would love to hear their answer.”

What has Shiro thought of to say as he listened to everyone else share their happy thoughts? The first thing that comes to his mind is being with his ex when they were still married and the stars were still aligned. He shoves that fantasies right back down to the deep recesses of his mind. Then he thinks about all the family vacations he went on with his parents to Japan. Despite not being born there, it felt like a second home to him. When his mom was still around and his dad was a picture of health, everything felt perfect. He was... at peace. When was the last time he felt that way?

“I guess this is a direct attack towards me,” Shiro jokes when the room gets quiet. “I’ve been trying to think of a happy thought for the past several minutes. And the... events that come to mind make me feel a little more nostalgic than happy. I don’t think that’ll work.”

“Well, it could be anything,” Coran assures him. “What’s the one thing that calms the beast?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I guess the best answer I got right now is just being at peace. Those happy memories altogether make me feel that way. Well, except for the _one_ category or events I’d rather not linger on. But I guess that’s for another day.”

“Being peaceful is a great happy thought! Now, we’ll just have to work on feeling that way all the time.”

Shiro laughs dryly. “If only.”

Coran looks at the time and clasps his hands together. “That just about wraps up our session for the evening. You’re all on the right paths!”

They all get up, and Shiro stays seated for a while longer as everyone chats together. Throk gets out of there almost immediately. Zarkon and Sendak share an inaudible conversation together. Keith asks something about The Office, which has Lance going on a full rant to talk about the lack of self-awareness in this character named Michael Scott. Allura seems to be playing Devil’s Advocate with them, indistinctly talking about the show in a light that has Lance exclaiming, “Is that a personal attack?!”

Shiro zones out at that point. He wants to—no, _needs_ —a long rest. That’s what he needs right now. His answer to Coran’s open-ended question feels to vague. He wonders if any of the others understand what he means by that, without having to explain it in further detail. He isn’t too sure.

“Shiro?”

He’s startled and looks up. Keith and Lance are in front of him now. Everyone else is gone.

“Are you okay?” Lance pries and offers his hand.

He shows his best smile as he takes it and gets up. “I’m fine. Just lost in thought.”

“No kidding,” Keith teases.

“We wanted to ask you something.”

“What’s up?” Shiro starts putting his coat on.

Lance is grinning from ear to ear. “Keith has agreed to watch The Office with me. And I was wondering if you wanted to join us.”

He doesn’t even have to ask. The joking invitation Lance brought up earlier is now a reality! He’d love to hear what the fuss is about.

“Sure,” he chuckles.

“Sweet!” He looks down at his feet, then. “I just gotta figure out when we should watch it. I live with my family still, and it’s gonna take a lifetime to get a night alone.”

Keith nods in agreement. “I live underneath the loudest family in the world, but when I wanna have a good time, all of a sudden it’s the end of the world.”

“That’s the most relatable thing I’ve ever heard,” Lance sighs. “What about you, Shiro?”

To ponder over the question himself, Shiro doesn’t see why he _shouldn’t_ invite them over. It’s a decently sized house. More often than not, it gets pretty lonely in there by himself.

“I have Netflix,” he offers. “You guys just have to wait until after five, because when I get home I have to do my grading.”

“Sounds like a plan!” Lance is so excited! “Can we do it this Friday, then?”

“Friday’s good for me, too.” Keith zips his jacket up.

“Then Friday evening at five, it is,” Shiro grins and leads the way out of the building. “Do you guys need a ride home?”

“Yes.”

They both say that in unison, and that makes Shiro smile. “Alright, let’s go.”

During the ride home, Keith and Lance fight over the music. Lance insists on having the Top 40 station on, while Keith keeps intercepting while sitting shotgun and turns on the rock station. It’s an ongoing bicker fest for several minutes, but in the end, Shiro wins when he switches to his Aux cord and reveals his drastically variating tastes in music. All in all, it’s fun ride back to Altea.


	5. A New Development

_Lance is nervous. Is this a_ date? Wait, it’s the _three_ of them altogether. But... can it still be considered a date? With both of them? He’s not going to lie, both Shiro and Keith are constantly on his mind. But that’s not something he should be wandering towards when he’s spending time with them in the anger management groups. Are members of the group allowed to be in relationships together? Is that a thing?

He watches Keith step out of his house around the same time he does. Lance has a duffle bag hoisted over his shoulder, for no particular reason other than an excuse to bring things with him.

Keith shakes his head and chuckles. “What, are you planning a sleepover?” he teases as he walks across the street.

“...Possibly.” He’s blushing like crazy while they meet each other at Shiro’s doorstep.

“So... are you gonna knock, or what?”

“Oh, right.” Lance laughs shyly while doing so. “I thought that you were gonna do it.”

“You’ve got me,” he shrugs.

Lance looks back towards the door when Shiro answers. He’s wearing his reading glasses, and he’s immediately drawn to how tightly his shirt is in contrast to his chest. It doesn’t help that this shirt is complemented by an airy cardigan. He looks like a teacher in every sense of the stereotype, and it’s _killing_ him in the best way. His cheeks redden as he forces himself to look down at the ground.

“Welcome.” Shiro takes them inside. Lance hardly notices that he doesn’t have his prosthetic arm on. “Anyone have any food allergies? I’m still finishing up dinner.”

“No allergies for me,” he beams.

Keith meanwhile rubs the back of his neck. “Actually, I’m lactose intolerant.”

“Oh. Fortunately, no dairy was involved in the making of this meal.”

_Oh my god._ What a terrible joke. Then again, Lance does remember that the guy’s thirty...

“Go on ahead and get settled. The living room is right down the hall. I have the TV set up.”

“Thanks, Shiro.” Lance leads the way in, while Keith is shuffling his feet.

“Hey,” he suddenly snaps from the kitchen. “Shoes off at the door.”

Keith and Lance exchange glances, their faces going red as they kick their shoes off and follow Shiro’s orders. For a fleeting moment, Lance feels a little insecure without his shoes on, but no one seems to take extreme interest into it.

Lance opens up Netflix once the TV successfully started up. “So, Keith. How’re you doing after the whole drunk night incident?”

“I’m doing well,” he mumbles and sits down. He keeps his jacket on and leans back into the seat. “Y’know, sometimes I wonder if it was a good idea to join a whole group of people. Do you think it’d be better if there was a solo therapy session?”

“I haven’t experienced that long enough to give you a good answer to that,” he shrugs. “But I don’t think it’s anything to really feel doubtful about. We’re all new at it.”

Shiro comes into the room before Keith has a chance to say anything else. The couch is quite small, considering that the three of them will all be on it at once.

“If you want, I can just get comfy on the floor.” Lance gestures down to the ground. “I mean, I brought a pillow with me in my bag. I’d might as well put it to some use.”

“Yeah, I knew I wanted to ask something. Why did you bring a duffle bag?” Shiro teases.

Keith nudges his shoulder. “I think he’s planning a sleepover.”

“I dunno, I just wanted to bring my stuff with me.” Lance exasperatedly raises his arms up and gets settled down on the floor. It’s then that he realizes he’d gotten distracted for too long and forgot to actually log in after opening the app.

They don’t say much of anything for a little while. Shiro gets his own account set up, and Lance helps with getting the show ready.

“My ex encouraged me to get Netflix on here, but I’ve never really used it before.” Shiro pulls his coffee table closer to them so he can settle their dinner and some snacks on it. “How am I doing so far? Am I a good host?”

“Very,” Lance grins. “So, uh... an ex?”

He frowns and fiddles with the remote. “Yeah. My ex-husband.”

“Did you hear that, Keith?” he gasps. “We have a formerly married man in our midst.”

“A little sensitivity, maybe?” Keith mumbles.

Feeling a sudden rush of nerves in his chest, he faces forward while giving them the most confident shrug he can muster. “Sorry. Thought that I could keep the mood light by joking around.”

“It’s okay, guys. I’m not as upset about it as I was. I just need to move on, that’s all.” Shiro finds the show and turns it on.

Keith leans against the side of the couch. “Is that why you’re at Coran’s group?”

A tick goes by. “That’s part of it. It’s a complicated mess.”

“I understand.”

He lets out a huff as the show begins. Chatter ceases, as they’re all concentrating on what’s on the screen. Lance is excited to listen to their reactions as he sits there on the floor. His butt’s already growing numb, and the pillow’s doing nothing for him. Maybe sacrificing his spot on the couch was a bad idea.

He’s nearly memorized the events on the show, and as they come across humorous moments, his face contorts to a knowing, devilish grin. These two have no idea.

He hears Keith groan at each impossible joke that Michael Scott makes. He finds out very quickly that his favorite character is Jim. Shiro, on the other hand, sounds like he’s losing his goddamn mind.

“Why is he so obtuse?” shiro gasps, talking about Michael Scott. “He’s terrible!”

“Yup!” he simply chuckles and continues to sit politely on his stoop.

“Why don’t they just confront him about it?” Keith sighs. “He’s their boss. That’s not very professional.”

“That’s the joke,” he teases. “Any chances to confront him end up being all for nothing. After a while, they’d let him figure most things out on his own.”

Each reaction shot has Shiro holding his stomach while he’s laughing. “Ohh my god, I hate him so much!” he wheezes.

“Don’t we all?” They continue watching, and he hopes that they don’t notice his shuffling.

Unfortunately, he’s made it far too noticeable. He blushes when the two of them catch his attention, and he turns his head to look over.

“Come on up here,” Shiro assures him. “There’s plenty of room on the couch, Lance.”

“O-oh, no, it’s no trouble.” Lance blushes as he looks at them.

Keith shrugs and leans over Shiro to pat at the smaller empty spot available. “C’mon. We don’t mind.”

He gulps shyly with a nod as he starts getting up. “Okay. Because my butt’s numb.”

“Even with the pillow?” he teases.

“Yes, ‘even with the pillow.’ Damn.” He grimaces while Keith laughs as he sits down beside Shiro.

The episodes keep rolling on as they watch together. Sometime within their marathon, Shiro had settled back further into the couch, like he was resting. It doesn’t take long for Keith to also relax. Lance never expected that this silly show on Netflix would really help ease their tensions.

They look so close to each other that Lance isn’t sure he wants to disturb by joining in. Seeing these two men that have constantly been on his mind being so close and soothed near each other is enough for his heart to burst with happiness.

Before he can interject with a joke about how cuddly they are getting, he suddenly feels a sleeved stub on his shoulder. He’s startled as he looks over, meeting Shiro’s gaze.

He notices a... pained look on his face, as he retracts his limb. “Sorry. That was weird, I know.” He clears his throat as Keith turns his head, too.

“N-no, I just didn’t think... you were already very close with Keith, so I thought—”

“It’s alright.” He smiles at him. “I have two sides. More room for everyone.”

_God._ Lance is slowly falling further into a daze.

Keith isn’t much better, either. He leans across Shiro to rest his hand on Lance’s leg. “Yeah. This is kinda nice.”

“Yeah.” He sputters and smiles. “It is nice. But it’s not weird at all?”

Shiro shrugs. “Unless you think it is.”

They look back at the TV together as the show keeps rolling on. “I don’t think so,” he says softly as he rests against Shiro’s shoulder once again. He feels so soothed that he can stay like this all night.

He can fall asleep just like this.

 

Unfortunately, Lance couldn’t stay the _whole_ time. After they got passed the first couple episodes of Season Two, they had to go their separate ways back to their places. Besides, Shiro was nodding off after a while.

It feels like such an honor and a privilege to see Shiro as soft and pure as he can possibly get. It’s all Keith and Lance can talk about after Shiro had settled down for bed.

“Didn’t you forget something?” Keith asks as they’re about to head out the door.

“What?”

“Your _pillow,_ ” he teases. “It’s still on the floor near the couch.”

“Oh.” Lance blushes and shakes his head. “I’ll get it another time. It’s not my only pillow. Besides, it gives me a good excuse to come back here and get it.”

_“Smooth,_ Lance,” he snorts and walks down the street with him. He walks him home and stands with him at the doorstep. “So, until next time?”

“Yeah.” Lance hasn’t felt this light in a while. “We definitely need to do this again.”

“I agree. I feel like we’ve learned a lot about each other.”

He nods with a teasing grin. “Like how Shiro loves self-aware humor.”

“We’d better not hold that against him.”

“Oh, of _course not,”_ Lance scoffs jokingly. “I would never!”

“Right.” Keith’s shuffling his feet again. Lance notices that he does that when he’s nervous. “Good night, Lance.”

“Good night.”

What should Lance _do?_ He has the biggest high school crush on _two_ of the greatest men he’s ever met! How can he show Keith that? Or Shiro? To say that he’s hopeful of their friendships working outside of their group therapy is a huge understatement.

He takes a deep breath. Now is the time to be bold. Be brave. He doesn’t know how else to express his feelings without getting exasperated or flustered. He’s just gotta go right ahead and do it.

He doesn’t expect his immediate impulse to be kissing Keith square on the cheek.

“W-what?” He watches Keith hold his cheek.

Lance still feels sparks on his lips as his face reddens. He gives him a quick wave goodbye while standing by the door. “Pass it on to Shiro for me.”

“I...”

“Good night!”

He chickens out and hurries inside, shutting the door quickly. His punched-out sigh is a lot louder than he expected, even louder than the pounding of his pulse in his ears. And when he looks for a response from the other side, he hears nothing at the door. No know, no call... Did he fuck up?

He’s not sure, and he’s not staying long enough to find out.

_He nearly forgets how early he_ has to get up for his shift the next day. Why doesn’t he think any of his plans through? He rushes out of his bed at four in the morning and hops into a shower that’s scalding enough to wake him right up. Teeth brushed, hair combed, and he barely has time to settle down and get something to eat.

He hears his stepdad grunt over how loud he’s being this morning, and he doesn’t have the nerve to just tell him to cool it and go back to sleep. He normally sleeps like a rock, anyways. It’s bad enough that he’s already insecure enough over how loud he tends to be.

Even Hunk’s on the wrong side of the bed today, disgruntled over having to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to take him to work when his own shift isn’t for another four hours. But Lance can’t help it! He’s sure that his buddy will forgive him later, when he takes him out for drinks again like they did the other night with Pidge. That was fun.

Maybe he can bring Shiro and Keith along to join the party.

_No._ Lance needs to calm down just a bit over his confusing crush. He’s sure that he’s all but stunned Keith the night before with his sudden outburst of impulsivity. He can’t imagine what it’d be like to face _Shiro_ with his feelings. After all, when he was in diapers, Shiro was in grade school! Maybe Shiro doesn’t like younger guys that way.

Then again, he was close with Keith, too.

He’s so _confused!_

No time to think about that now. Retail and supermarket life has him by the balls, as Thanksgiving is steadily approaching and sales are off the charts. He will even have to double up on Cashier duty some days whenever they need him up front. And he _hates_ the midday bookkeeper.

Much like everything else in his life, he just has to grin and bear it.

 

_Lance never gets to work the_ first Saturday shift. Supposedly, it’s a privilege, when the real goal is to never work on weekends ever again. But it feels good to be here now, instead of in the middle of the day where his whole Saturday normally goes by in a puff of smoke.

He’s just finishing up in the breakroom, getting up from his seat. There’s a nice view of the store, since he’s on the second floor looking from above. He likes to watch customers going about their normal days, feeling like a covert eye in the sky. In fact, he quickly realizes how lucky he truly is to work this early today. Because this is when he sees someone he never thought he’d get the chance to.

Shiro never comes to the supermarket. At least, he’s never seen him there before. But now, he understands why. He only shops on Saturday mornings.

He’s walking around the produce department, fixing his reading glasses and looking at a list. Beside him is a frail, old man, holding onto the cart for what Lance assumes is support. They’re speaking to each other, but obviously Lance can’t hear them from this distance.

It’s the fastest he’s ever clocked in after break in his life. He straightens himself up and tries being casual while working in his department. He has displays to replenish, after all. When Shiro’s close enough, he hears him and the older man talking, but it’s in another language. _Right,_ he did say he was from Japan. So, this must be his _father_ that’s with him. Suddenly, he just got very nervous.

“Shiro,” he gasps just as he’s heading over to the bakery department. “Hey!”

Shiro turns around when hearing his name. He’s confused at first, but then he gives him a polite wave. “Lance. Good to see you.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles and walks closer. “So, this is your dad?”

He nods gingerly. His father isn’t even paying attention, like he can’t hear him. “Yep. We shop every Saturday morning.”

“No wonder I never see you,” Lance grins.

He gulps as suddenly the two of them talk to each other in Japanese. He only wishes he can understand what they’re saying. But when he sees Shiro gesture to him and look up at him with a smile, Lance assumes that maybe this is an introduction. He’s eager to make a nice first impression. “H-hello, Mr. Shirogane.”

Shiro laughs, a bit quiet. “Lance, my dad doesn’t speak English.”

“Oh, sorry.” He blushes.

His dad tuts while talking to him. All of a sudden Shiro looks flustered as he shakes his head and responds, a light flush on his cheek.

“What’d he say?” Lance asks curiously.

He clears his throat. “He was just telling me about how you’re too good to be working in a supermarket.”

A blush blooms on his cheeks now. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry. He has dementia, and sometimes he can’t read a room all too well when there’s something on his mind.”

“No, it’s okay. I... kinda know what that’s like? My abuela has Alzheimer’s, and she often confused me for my dad.”

“Right.” He sighs, giving Lance another tired smile. “I’ll see you around. Hopefully every Saturday, hm?”

“Yeah.”

“Kashi...” Shiro’s dad suddenly grumbles while looking at them, gesturing to the cart.

“Oh.” He laughs a bit while talking to him again, and Lance can only watch before he glances back. “Bye, Lance.”

Lance stays still for several moments, watching Shiro walk off with his dad in tow. It was really sweet, seeing how much he cares about him.

He continues about his daily tasks that, his day getting a little brighter as Hunk clocks in and helps him with the displays. They’re a tag team together, able to clean up in no time.

“Yeah, I’ve seen Shiro and his dad in here.” Hunk shrugs as Lance is talking about his experience. “Shiro is _super_ protective of his dad. There was this guy that used to come along with them, too. They’d constantly argue, which made some customers uncomfortable. In more ways than one.”

This other guy must be his ex-husband, then.

“When was the last time that other guy showed up here?”

“He comes here all the time,” he shrugs. “I think we both saw him on Wednesday. He was wearing that suit.”

“Wait, that _snob?”_ he gasps. “The one that always wants exactly two pounds of apples and is _never_ satisfied when it’s higher or lower than that?”

“Yeah, that’s the guy!” he laughs.

_That’s_ his ex-husband?

That guy’s a douchebag!

“Feeling okay?”

Lance doesn’t realize that he’s scowling. He shakes it off with a nod. “Yep. Just perfect. I’m gonna go take this cart back.”

“Don’t get lost!” he teases.

“Yeah, yeah...” He starts to push it along, and he suddenly hears a frantic voice.

“Otousan? Ima dokoni iruno?”

Lance quickly shoves the cart back into the stockroom, being careful not to block the door. He’s not sure what Shiro’s saying, but he knows that it’s probably serious. He rushes out to see what’s going on.

Shiro is frantic, nervously going down several aisles. It’s only then that he realizes he’s alone. Lance hurries to try and help.

“Hey, Shiro? Everything okay?”

He groans in frustration. “I lost him. It finally happened, I lost my dad.” He lets out a harsh laugh. “Didn’t take too fucking long for that to happen.”

“Shiro,” he chides and takes a hold of his prosthetic. Shiro instantly flinches back from the touch, startling him. “Shiro, calm down. We’ll find him. He can’t be that far.”

He’s still visibly panicking. Lance already knows that he’s been under a lot of stress, and that’s just from the anger management group. He can’t imagine how tough it is outside of it, when it feels like he’s going through these fits of panic and rage alone. And honestly, the weight of that reality is making Lance _himself_ feel anxious.

He brings him over to the courtesy booth, where he has to wait on the line for a couple minutes. Shiro’s entire body looks tense, his knuckles turning white while he’s holding the cart.

“I can help the next customer,” someone finally calls. It’s Nyma. Despite Lance being interested in her for a time, he knows that she’s not exactly helpful when it comes to her job.

“Hi.” Not once has Shiro been able to calm down. “I need some help.”

“Don’t we all?” she teases.

He frowns. “No, I mean I need help finding a missing person.”

“You know, that’s not very responsible to leave your child running around the store unattended.”

“I don’t have ki— No! You’re not listening to me,” he hisses, trying his best to keep his composure. “My father’s lost in the store. I need help finding him.” He sounds like he regrets every word that comes out of his mouth.

She purses her lips as she listens to him. “Don’t worry, Sir. We’ll help find him. What’s his name?”

He sighs in a minute burst of relief. “Eiji Shirogane. He only understands Japanese, so if someone from security can just walk with me to help me, that’d be great.”

“Hold that thought one sec.” She picks up the phone. “Attention GACMart customers: Will Eiji Shirogane please come up to customer service? Your party is waiting for you.”

When they hear her voice echo into the PA system, Lance watches Shiro’s face turn several shades of red and his eye twitch.

_Oh no._

“Oh yeah, hey, that’s great help. Thanks a lot. Except. Y’know. I _just_ told you that he _doesn’t speak English!_ You’re just _making noises_ at him!”

She looks taken aback and cross, her eyes narrowing. “Look, buddy, I don’t appreciate your attitude. If you don’t calm down I’ll call the police. I’m only doing my job.”

“Then you’re not doing it hard enough! I’ve already wasted enough time here!”

He’s making a scene. And not only that, it looks like Shiro’s seeing _red,_ as dark as the color of his face.

“Shiro!” Lance tries getting his attention. “Hey, hey, relax!”

“I don’t have time for this.” He yanks his cart back so that he can turn around, almost catching Lance off guard.

“Hey,” he tenses and takes hold of the cart. “Shiro, remember in class? Think of your happy thought!”

_“I don’t have one, Lance!”_

It stings to hear him say that so quickly.

Shiro’s still incredibly angry, his nostrils flaring and his breathing coming out so unevenly that Lance swears he might pass out. He has to help him calm down. He’ll find out how. Somehow.

“Sure, you do,” he insists, attempting to tame the beast as he leads him away from the courtesy booth. “You said your happy thought is being at peace.”

“That was something I made up just so that I had an answer,” he mutters. With his huffed out sigh and the way his grip shakes on the cart, Lance realizes that he’s also frustrated, scared, and even helpless. “I don’t even think I know what that’s like anymore.”

“Don’t say that...” He sighs. “Take deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

Shiro looks like he’s learning how to breathe for the very first time.

“Think of the first thing that pops into your head that makes you feel peaceful. Right away, what eases all your tension?”

It takes some thinking. Lance notices Shiro’s eyes watering as some worries begin to ease. “I think... about my childhood. With both my parents around, and visiting Japan, and having no worries or responsibilities. Things were a lot easier, then.”

It’s a self-defeating way to calm down, but it’s a start.

His knuckles aren’t white and angry anymore. He pushes his reading glasses back up, shivering as more nerves leave his body. “That’s it...” Lance grins. “I’ll have my friend help us look for him. We’ll find him so quick, you’ll see.”

He gulps and hides his face for a moment, probably to dry his eyes. “Okay.”

Lance takes him back over to the produce department, now that they’re both calm. He explains to Hunk the situation.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t trust Nyma with directions,” Hunk chuckles. “She’s good with money, but she’s only here for the paycheck. The best thing to do is think of something your dad really likes. Maybe he’s over there.”

“Like, favorite food, maybe?” Lance adds.

Shiro frowns again, this time deep in thought. Suddenly, it looks like he has a quick realization. “The seafood department, maybe? When I was a kid, I liked looking at the lobsters in the tank. My parents would both take me over to them while they talked to the clerks. It was a routine we had.”

“That’s a great start,” he muses. “Let’s go over and check it out.”

“Yeah,” he rasps as Hunk goes on ahead. Lance keeps up his pace, hurrying after them while also watching out for customers. Their trek to the seafood department has many stops, each one of them making Shiro feel agitated before Lance would remind him to calm down.

He’s not by the lobsterk tank. But he is looking at the iced fish that are on the display beside the tank.

“Otousan!” He hurries over with the cart and gets his attention.

The older man looks up, seeming annoyed. And they’re... arguing.

Shiro looks like he’s going to break.

Their shouting match eventually ends, however, with Shiro’s father holding onto the cart after calmly being spoken to. After everything Lance has seen today, he knows _very_ well not to get on Shiro’s bad side.

He still looks upset, though. “Hey Shiro, do you need help getting your things outside at checkout? Or do you just... need to talk?”

He gets the idea very quickly and slowly nods. “That sounds really nice, Lance. Yeah.” He looks at Hunk. “Thank you. Really. Thank you so much.”

“Hey, it’s all part of the job,” Hunk teases with a smile. “See you next week.”

Shiro doesn’t say anything, and Hunk and Lance share a look to each other. They remain silent during the rest of that time, until Lance is called up to the front for a carryout. He’s hoping to help make Shiro feel better.

He’s deathly quiet, while his father’s going on ahead singing something that Lance knows for a fact he doesn’t know the words to. And Shiro... well, now that Lance takes a moment to look over at him while he’s pushing the cart, he realizes that he’s crying. And he’s not doing a very good job at hiding it.

“Hey...” Lance stops right next to him when they get to his car. “It’s okay now. Your dad’s okay, and you got out of there unscathed. Get excited!”

Shiro’s throat tightens while he quickly hides his face. “Y-yeah,” he hiccups. “I know. But... the whole process, and my dad getting lost—I don’t know what I was thinking, possibly taking him in if I can’t even keep track of him in a fucking store.”

“Shiro, relax...” They get the trunk open and start putting everything in. His dad’s now in the passenger seat.

“He barely acknowledged me as his son, Lance. That’s how little I see him now.” He tries drying his face with no such luck. “And his doctor says he doesn’t have a lot of time left, but he’s been saying that since my mom died. And in the store, he tried getting away from me, claiming that I was trying to mug him. It all just—it really sucks, and he’s all that I have. All I want is for him to be safe until that time comes, and I keep fucking it all up.”

Lance watches him while listening. “...Y’know, for someone as sturdy and put-together as you, you sure do swear a lot.”

Shiro laughs at that, in the midst of his choked-up tears. “Fuck you.”

He shakes his head with a grin. “In all seriousness, it seems like you’re doing an okay job to me. It’s not easy, for either of you. If you think what you’re feeling is bad, imagine how your dad feels. He must feel really scared, not knowing what to say or do most of the time. And to me, maybe you’re not there as much as you’d like to be, but you’re making the effort to try. That’s more than enough to show how much you care.”

“His aid has said something like that a few times.” He sniffles and dries off the last bit of tears. “I just... have a hard time believing that sometimes. “So, thank you. Really. And he appreciates what you and Hunk have done to help us.”

“You’re welcome.” He pats his shoulder after shutting the trunk for him. “If I don’t see you again in the next few days, then I’ll see you at the next meeting, okay?”

“Okay.” He nods and steps over to the driver side. “Bye, Lance.”

“Bye...” He steps away to let Shiro back out of the parking lot. There are a lot of things going through Lance’s mind right now, and one of them is a recurring one that’s more of an obvious reminder than a realization.

He’s in love.

He steps inside, shivering the last bit of cold out of his system. He’s right across the way from Nyma, who gives him a look that’s supposed to be a glaring reference that they both have different moods towards. She’s rolling her eyes as the last customer on the line leaves the courtesy booth.

“What an asshole,” she scoffs, “am I right?”

Lance knows immediately that she’s talking about Shiro, an dhe won’t let him be defamed in such a way.

“He’s not an asshole,” he mutters. Well, not a _huge_ one, but still. He finds himself looking back the way he came, thinking about how careful he was with his dad and how chaotic his emotions truly are. And about that douche ex-husband of his and hearing that he’s still grieving over his mother. And who knows _what else_ is going through his head right now.

So yeah. He’s not an asshole.

“He’s just stressed.”


	6. Gratuitous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a gratuitous (pun intended) smut scene ;)

_“That’s an excellent solution, Sendak.” Coran_ beams brightly as he looks around their circle. “What else have the rest of you done in an effort to control your anger?”

Allura quietly raises her hand. “I didn’t make a scene at my aunt’s banquet.”

“That’s always a great thing!” he encourages.

Keith listens to them all with his arms crossed. Before coming here, he got into a fight with his uncle about his living arrangements. Sure, he doesn’t want to live in that townhouse anymore, but he also doesn’t want to move back in with family. He wants to keep whatever independence and dignity that he has intact, but it’s hard to live comfortably with his poor decision-making skills.

It’s Lance’s turn to talk about an effort he made to keep calm in a triggering situation since their last session. Meanwhile, Keith’s still thinking about that abrupt kiss on the cheek he did several weeks ago. And of course, he did _not_ pass that gesture onto Shiro. He’d probably die.

It wasn’t that he didn’t _mind_ the kiss. He just didn’t expect it! And to be quite honest, both he and Shiro have been on his mind very frequently. The thought of being with the two of them separately is a little nerve-wracking, but with them _together,_ oh boy. That’s something he kept right on the front of his mind, even when lying on his bed feeling regret first thing in the morning, after some more poor decision-making leaves him covered in the clammy texture of old sweat and some joe’s semen.

Maybe Shiro and Lance wouldn’t be into something like that. And if they are, probably not with _him,_ specifically. Keith isn’t going to lie. He’s a slut. He’s been in the pants of nearly every willing bachelor he’s come across in the local bars, whether they’d be tourists or fellow lonely souls that don’t kiss and tell. With these two men specifically on his mind, though, he can’t think of anyone else he’d rather be with. Ever.

Despite his critical self-doubt, he still hangs onto that faint string of hope that maybe the two of them find him endearing enough to take him in.

“My stepdad’s mom started bringing up that I’m not going anywhere because I’m still not in college.” Oh yeah. Lance is still talking. Did Keith zone out? “And it hurt a lot, but I didn’t let that affect my attitude.”

Coran nods happily. “You’re all making great progress.” He looks at the whole group again. “We’re halfway into our course, and I’m very proud you’ve all made it this far! And with that, we’ll now being our open discussion. Feel free to bring up anything on your mind that either makes you feel better when you’re angry, or something you’ve found out that can trigger an episode.”

Shiro raises his hand first. “I’ll go.”

Keith immediately turns his attention to him. Much like Sendak, he hardly ever participates in these group discussions.

“I’m still getting over my divorce,” he begins. “It’s hard not to think about it, since he and his mother still call me frequently and constantly check to see if I’ve sold the house. And during this time, I figured out something that really grinds my gears. In short, I think monogamy is bullshit.”

“That’s... quite the realization.” Throk deadpans.

Well, no one asked for _his_ opinion.

Shiro shifts in his seat, almost like he’s regretting what he thinks allowed. When Lance interjects, however, he starts to look more relaxed.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean... well, I guess it’s a good time to point out that it’s just my opinion, but I would rather not be tied down again. Like, to one person for the rest of my life. So far, I wasted nearly ten years of my life with someone that didn’t actually love me. I’m not gonna put myself through that again.”

“I dunno,” Zarkon shrugs. “Maybe someday there will be someone that _does_ love you.”

“How would you know?” he scoffs. “You’re like, fifty and still single.”

“That’s different,” he snaps.

“Right, right, you’re the mysterious one that no one knows about. Gotcha.”

“ _I think_ we should tone it down,” Coran interjects. “We’re being taken away from a civil discussion.”

Keith has never seen Shiro look so annoyed. He crosses his arms and stays seated. He figures that he can tuck that topic away and save it for later. And when he looks over at Lance while scanning for everyone’s reactions, it seems like he has the exact same idea.

Good.

A few other people talk about their discoveries. Keith thinks that Shiro’s point deserved a much better spotlight, but he says nothing about it and leaves it alone. The meeting soon comes to a close, and he starts to get up and prepare for another lonely walk home.

“Hey, Keith!”

He blinks and looks over at Allura. She has the others in the group gathered around her, including Lance and Shiro.

“I’m throwing a party to celebrate hitting the halfway mark. Wanna come?”

“Where’s it at?”

“I picked one of the bars at the boardwalk. It’s called The Black Lion. Nothing too fancy.”

_The Black Lion..._ Ugh, Keith knows that bar. It’s so _nice,_ but he’s been there plenty of times!

“It’s just an excuse to let loose.” She grins. “Everyone else is coming.”

Sendak crosses his arms. “Even Coran?”

“So, what if he is?” she teases. “I invited him, but he’s not coming. Either that, or he’s only going to stay for the first hour. I’m not sure.”

Shiro sighs. “I’ll probably be a designated driver.”

“Wait, no.” Keith opens his mouth before he can even think over what he’s about to say. “You deserve to enjoy yourself. You never drink.”

“Ah, I just don’t do it that often.”

“I know how to drive,” Keith continues. “I can take the wheel when it’s time to go home.”

“So, does that mean you’re coming?” Allura beams. “Full attendance?”

“Guess so,” he shrugs with a smile.

“Sweet!” she grins. “So, be there Saturday night at eight.”

“Sounds great.” He doesn’t bother to stay inside any longer. He isn’t even sure if he feels like a real part of the group, but he can’t miss an opportunity to get to know his two new friends even better. And there’s also that lingering possibility of becoming _more_ than friends. That’s something to truly look forward to.

He feels like a hand on his shoulder, and the texture makes him a little unnerved. It’s not every day that a prosthetic arm touches him, after all.

“Hey Keith,” Shiro pries. “Why don’t I take you home? Lance is coming with me. And it only makes sense you come too, given we’re all neighbors.”

He blushes and momentarily tries to hide it. “Oh, you don’t have to.”

“Really, I insist.” He smiles, taking hold of his hand.

Keith normally doesn’t like being told what to do or where to be, but when Shiro is the one persuading him, “no” coincidentally is not a part of his vocabulary.

He’s in the back seat as Shiro and Lance are talking to each other. They’re referencing things that Keith is out of the loop on, and he greatly feels like he’s missing out. Even after their chatter quiets down and Lance is singing along to a song while looking out the window, he finds himself feeling envious. He’s not jealous of Lance, by any stretch of the word. And the same goes for Shiro. He just... wants to feel like he’s a part of the equation.

_What am I saying?_ They aren’t even together, yet! Wait, yet? His hopes seem pretty high for someone that’s not exactly desired.

It’s during this war with himself when he remembers that there’s something he’s supposed to be doing to further deal with why his rage has been continuing, even during the process of getting better. And he can face that issue head-on, right now. His problem is that he keeps bottling up his emotions. And what this really boils down to is that if he wants either of them to notice him, he has to _do something_ about it.

“Shiro?”

They’re at a red light, so Shiro turns his head to look back at him while turning the music down.

He nearly chokes, internally cursing himself for his sudden shyness. “I think that you not wanting to be in a monogamous relationship anymore is a good thing. You should do whatever makes you happen. And if the thought of another potential marriage going wrong and wasting more of your life doesn’t do it for you, then that’s your business. Learning more about yourself will help you in the long run.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, and he has to look back at the road once he gets a green light. But he hears a warm fit of laughter running through him, and Keith’s anxiety takes a much-needed break.

“Thanks,” he hums once he can speak again.

“Hey!” Lance interjects. “I just thought of something. What if we all just take an Uber to the party on Saturday? We can all get drunk together!”

“That’s a tall order,” Shiro teases.

“We all deserve to let loose.”

Keith sighs. “Alright. But I’m capping it at two drinks. I need you to be my voice of reason.”

Lance snorts at that. “Can’t make any promises.”

“I’ll keep track,” Shiro insists happily. He stops at Keith’s house. “Alright, first stop.”

Keith can’t get over how sweet these two are or how giddy they make him feel. It’s a bad thing for his impulse control, but at the same time he wants them to know that he’s interested. And he does so in the only way he knows how.

After unfastening his seatbelt, he leans forward and kisses Shiro’s cheek while he’s caught off guard. He notices him flinch and starts to immediately regret it, but a slow smile forming on the man’s face allows Keith’s heart to be still. His breath is shaky, trying to accommodate for holding it in during his tension. And Lance going right ahead to kiss his cheek as well doesn’t help at all with putting out the fire that’s burning in his lungs.

“Okay,” he gasps out, still wheezing for air. “I didn’t expect _that.”_

“Neither did I,” Shiro laughs, putting the car in the park. This allows him to rotate a bit more to face both Keith and Lance. “No one would even guess that we aren’t just a bunch of cooped up, angry assholes after all, hm?”

Lance rolls eyes with a grin. “You gotta think a little more highly of yourself, Shiro.”

“I mean, he’s not _wrong.”_ Keith’s response allows their smiles to grow a bit more. “I should... get back inside. See you Saturday?”

“Aww, no Office binge tomorrow?” Lance pouts.

He shakes his head. “I gotta visit my uncle. Next Friday, though!” He’s already stepping out of the car. He’s getting too shy again. Why does he get like this? “Bye!”

He covers his face as he hurries inside, and he can feel his skin burning from how flushed he’s gotten. Let’s face it. He’s got it bad.

 

_“Okay, I’m not as old as_ you think I am.”

“Uncle Thace, I just didn’t want you to get all judgmental.”

“Of _course,_ I’m judgmental! That’s my job,” Thace scoffs jokingly.

The familiar environment of his uncle’s living room still doesn’t make him feel comfortable, even after all the time he’s been under his care.

“I’m just making sure you’re doing what’s best for you, Keith.”

“Yeah, if you knew exactly what I’ve gotten myself into, you’d be giving me far more than just judgmental jabs.” Keith rolls his eyes while holding himself. “But I dunno what to _do_ about it. I _think_ they’re into it? But probably not with me.”

“What makes you say that?” Thace chuckles. “You’re not that bad looking of a gentleman. And they seem like they’re nice guys.”

“Yeah, but have you ever actually _dated_ a guy?”

He purses his lips. “You’ve got me.”

Keith frowns at that. “What, Ulaz still hasn’t asked you out?”

“What?”

“O-oh, nothing,” he quickly sputters and blushes. “Don’t tell him I told you that.”

He gawks. “Don’t tell him what?”

“Exactly.” He sighs. “Well, anyways... Shiro was divorced, so now he seems to be, like... completely against commitment. And Lance, well, he’s far too confident to be seen with someone like me.”

Thace shrugs and crosses his leg while sitting back further in his chair. “From the sound of things, you’re already starting to hit it off. The only way you’re gonna find out they’re interested in a relationship is if you can ask them.”

“But I’ve never _been_ in a serious relationship!” His exaggerated groan into the nearest throw pillow is a much better release of his anger and frustration that he’s ever done, so that’s props to him. “I don’t know what to _do,_ or _how!”_

“Keith, you gotta relax,” he sighs. His hand clasps his shoulder. “Let me say this again, in a different way. You’re never going to find out how they really feel unless you ask them. And in turn, you’ have to tell them how _you_ feel. And believe me, once that is taken care of, you’ll be feeling a lot less frustrated and anxious over the unknown.”

“You’re starting to sound like Dr. Coran,” he snarks.

“Well, he’s doing his job,” he insists. “How’re you doing at work?”

He deadpans. “I’d rather not answer that.”

“Keith...” he groans. “Are you _still_ on Kolivan’s bad side?”

“I’m never going to get _back_ on his good side, after the scene I made in front of Dr. Honerva. I think I should quit.”

“You can’t quit,” he says sternly. “Not while you’re in this rut. Get yourself stabilized again, and _then_ come back to me about wanting to get another job.”

“Alright, fine.” He throws his arms up in defeat, slamming them right back down on the couch. His knuckles turn white as he’s gripping onto them, trying to regain his bearings. “I’m sorry, Uncle Thace.” He takes a deep breath. “There’s just... a _lot_ on my mind right now.”

“I’m sure,” he nods. “That’s why you gotta work through it, one step at a time. “Sure that their discussion has come to a close, he gets up to get a beer. “What are your plans for your birthday?”

Oh _shit,_ that’s a thing! It’s on Monday, and he nearly forgot! “N-no clue, Uncle Thace.”

“Well, why don’t you invite your suitors over here for dinner?”

“D-don’t say it like that!” He hides his face from him. “That’s weird!”

“Well, you can if you want to. But I’d really appreciate it if you come over. I miss you.”

“Alright, and I miss you too,” he sighs. “I’ll ask them, when I get the chance to.”

“Sounds good. Lemme know ahead of time.”

Keith shifts on the couch, still trying to mentally process everything going on in their conversation. “Yeah.”

He’s anxious about this party. And about those kisses in the car. They should be clear indicators that maybe they’re all interested, and whatever may happen tomorrow night will be the result of a circle jerk of affirmations of consent.

Then again, maybe not.

 

_The Uber driver’s name was Morvok._ He ogled at Shiro’s prosthesis, constantly asking if it moved like a real arm. And Keith was able to take a quick note that Shiro did _not_ like to talk too much in depth about his arm. But the gears in his head are turning as he’s trying to find ways of telling Morvok to cool it while also not punching him in the face for being so insensitive about his questions. Then again, Shiro doesn’t seem like the proud type that doesn’t want anyone to defend or coddle him.

But Morvok did have a point that Keith is willing to give him credit for. The two men he’s sandwiched in between are so _handsome_ that it’s impossible they’re human. Shiro is sporting a black suit with accents that are a deep violet. And whatever cologne he’s wearing tonight smells like _heaven._ And now Keith feels a little awkward being underdressed, only wearing his red jacket and jeans. Even Lance is going out on the town in some stunning attire, with a blue tunic that matches his eyes. Wait, let him rephrase that: a blue tunic _dress,_ and _leggings._ He himself could never pull them off, no matter how hard he tried. While seated in the car in between these two gorgeous men, Keith has never felt this gay in his entire life.

They stop in front of The Black Lion, and the three of them each chip to pay for the ride. As they walk inside, they notice that the rest of them are already here. They’re all sitting down in booths, their attire ranging from as suave as Shiro to being decently casual.

Keith notices that most of them are in their own groups, which is perfectly fine. For once, he doesn’t feel alone at a gathering. He sits with Lance and Shiro, occasionally catching up with other members of their group.

Sendak is walking around showing more pictures of his kittens, and while his smile is a little creepy, it’s good to see that he’s making progress in his life. Keith wishes that his own results would bear more fruit for him.

“Look at this one,” Coran beams. “He looks like he could be on one of the posters in my office!”

“He’s perfectly fit for modeling, but he doesn’t like the bright lights.”

“Understandable.” Allura looks so happy as she looks at the picture, shuffling in her pantsuit. “He’s precious!”

Even Shiro takes a look at the picture. “Oh, he reminds me of my cat Mochi,” he chuckles.

Allura grins and clasps her hands, Coran standing right beside her. “I propose that our first order of business is that I’d buy the first round of drinks. Enjoy yourselves, gentlemen!”

“Hell yeah!” Throk cheers and clasps Zarkon on the back, which makes him nearly choke in response.

Keith takes a specific mental note and places it right in the front of his mind. Only two drinks. That’s it tonight. He needs to show restraint after all, and this is his first night that could really be considered a date with these two! He needs to give them the best impression he can muster. So, he can only have a couple glasses.

Then two glasses turn into three.

Now, five more shots get shoved down his gullet.

Don’t worry, Shiro and Lance are also completely toasted. Shiro, probably more so. He must’ve been _dying_ to get drunk after all the shit he’s gone through and being forced into the role of designated driver and trying to survive the night just drinking water. Poor bastard.

To recap, Keith gets a bit too personal when he’s drunk. He likes to pour his heart and soul out, and _boy,_ is he clingy. And right now, he wants to know everything about these two men.

“So, tell me, why’re you really here?” he slurs out when he can finally control his mouth after another shot. He points at the two of them with a flail of his arms that’s probably a lot less graceful than he thinks it is. “What’s been making you so angry?”

Lance sputters and props his head up on his elbow. He has his empty shot glasses lined up in a row. “Well... It’s not that I’m not... _confident,_ or anything, with how my life’s been. Just my stepdad’s family doesn’t know when to quit, and it’s getting to me. Makin’ me feel like GACMart is a dead-end job and I’ll get nowhere with a degree.”

“Oh, pay no mind!” he frowns. “I don’t have a degree.”

“I can tell,” Shiro snorts.

“Hey! Cabinetry is a very successful business, ‘kay?”

Keith quickly finds out that Lance’s laughter is boisterous enough when he’s sober, but when drunk it’s like that but tenfold. “I have enough money put away to move out, but I have no drive.”

“Go for it, dude,” he insists. “There’s always landlords looking for their next victims.”

“Or rooms for rent,” Shiro offers. “I don’t _have_ to sell my house.”

“Hm, maybe,” he mumbles. “What about you, Shiro? Tell us what’s up with you.”

He sighs heavily, pretty much jokingly. “Well, see... I got this arm the way that it is.” He waves the prosthetic arm up like it’s weightless. “And that’s ‘cause I got beat up real bad in a car wreck. I got most of the impact on the passenger’s side, and my arm got crushed.”

“Fuck...” Keith gasps.

“That was... nearly two years ago? This prosthetic’s new, though. My ex didn’t like the claw.”

“The ‘cloaw?’”

“Oh yeah. It basically held papers and propped me up when I needed it. It looked like a claw,” he chuckles as he mimics a pinching motion with his prosthetic. “Now, this thing’s scarily lifelike, but it’s not the same. Y’know? And sometimes I don’t like wearing it at all. It allows me to be comfortable. Considering Richard wouldn’t even look at me without it on because I looked weird.”

He scoffs at that. “What a dick.”

“That’s a douche name, too. _Richard.”_ Lance grimaces. “I swear, if I see that guy...”

“To top it all off, six months ago...” Shiro gulps down the last of his remaining shots. “My mom passed away. Brain aneurysm.”

Both Keith and Lance are quiet as they listen to him.

“I mean, there was an age gap between my parents, and they were both over thirty-five by the time I was born, but they were both doin’ okay. And then all of a sudden, she was gone. A-and my dad, he’s had issues with dementia for a couple years now, but it’s been getting much worse ever since she died. Last year, he could still speak a bit of English, and now...” He sighs shakily. “And... heh. Just when I needed my husband the most, he leaves me. My situation was too depressing for him to handle.”

The words “dick” and “douche” are still too nice of words to use to describe this garbage human.

Silence for once is welcoming, as Shiro was finally able to open up about what’s been going on in his life. It only took a whole lot of alcohol, but that’s still progress enough.

“Keith, your turn,” he then offers as he relaxes.

“Well, mine’s not _nearly_ as sad.”

“That makes me feel a whole lot better,” he snorts.

Keith laughs while leaning back in the seat. “Well... my mom was an alcoholic. She left when I was four, and I barely remember her. And when I was sixteen, my dad died. My uncle took me in after that. He’s the only one from my mom’s side that even cared I existed. And, well, other stuff like being bullied and bottling up everything because no one wanted to listen. Things like that. So, that’s why I’m here.”

Now that they’ve all placed their hearts down on the table, Keith feels a lot less uncomfortable. He also wishes that they’ll all forget this in the morning. He sincerely doubts it, though.

“So...” Lance purses his lips. “You have daddy _and_ mommy issues? What a basket case.”

He gawks at him. “Wha— is that supposed to be something we have in common?!”

Shiro can’t help but laugh either. “Yeah, I think we _all_ have mommy and daddy issues.”

“This was supposed to be a heart-to-heart conversation, you dickholes!”

_“Dickhole,_ that’s a new one.”

“Let’s face it. We’re all dickholes,” Lance teases, his face flushed from the alcohol.

Keith’s trying to soothe his rushed breathing from all the laughter, and he looks the other way at the rest of the group. Throk is already passed out on the table, Coran is singing along to something that’s “an oldie but a goodie,” and Zarkon is brooding while Sendak downs a shot of whiskey. One day, Keith should drink with him. He’d probably lose any and all drinking games with him, though. Maybe he and Shiro should tag team.

Allura seems to be the only sober one here, trying in vain to hold conversations with them.

The songs in here vary by genre. Keith drank so much that he can feel the music shaking his entire world. The other two make an attempt to socialize with the rest of the group, meanwhile Keith is better off just staying seated so he doesn’t embarrass himself. During his people watching endeavor, however, he catches the eye of someone that’s seemingly been stalking them all night.

This random white guy dressed to the nines has had his eyes on them, and despite his ogling he makes no move to approach. Keith decides to bring this character up when Shiro and Lance come back over. They’ve both got their arms draped around each other, Shiro’s cheeks now as red as Lance’s.

“If you give him enough whiskey, Sendak’s a hoot,” Shiro chuckles, managing to calm himself down enough to look at him in the eye. “What’s up, Keith?”

“There’s this guy that’s been staring at us all night.” He gestures over with his eyes.

When Shiro looks over, all color drains from his face. “Fuck...”

Lance frowns, his eyes narrowing into a glare as he mutters something under his breath.

“Who is that?”

“Shiro’s ex-husband.”

“How do you know him?” Shiro pries.

“He’s a regular at GACMart every other Wednesday.” Lance’s fists are now clenched. “I’ve been dying to kick a bitch’s ass. Wanna join me, Keith?”

“It’d be an honor to destroy that suit,” he smirks, stumbling up to his feet.

“W-wait, wait!” Shiro takes hold of both their shirts, taking Keith’s breath away. “Please, don’t do anything. I wanted to have a good time tonight. Let’s just ignore him.”

The two of them share a heavy sigh while slumping back down. Keith rests his hand on the table. “If he comes over, do you give us permission to hit him?”

“No.” Shiro’s lips quirk up a fraction. “But you _can_ call him a dickhole.”

“It will be an honor.” Lance nearly bows, and during their mutual agreement, a shadow looms over them.

Shiro’s ex-husband finally decides to approach.

“So. This definitely looks like you’re apartment hunting,” he scoffs.

Shiro doesn’t look at him once. “Clearly, I haven’t had enough to drink. Piss off, Richard.”

“Oh, you’ve had plenty,” he sneers. “Who are your little friends?”

“Oh, we’re partners in crime.” Lance’s response seems to come naturally to him. “They call me Nunya, and this here is Bizness.”

Keith can’t help but snort, and he waves Richard away, trying to shoo him away. “Ciao.”

“Wow, where’d you pick up these smartasses?” he scoffs.

Shiro’s gritting his teeth, and Keith isn’t having any of this. This poor man is finally trying to enjoy himself, and he wasn’t going to let him get away with it.

“Why don’t you back off?” he mutters. “Clearly, he doesn’t want anything to do with you. Why continue to bother him?”

Shiro’s look is pleading as he’s biting his lip, but Keith will stop at nothing to defend this man.

And before this asshole can interject, Keith continues. “And another thing, it’s highly telling when you apparently think that Shiro’s in the wrong when you’ve been nothing but cruel when he needed you the most. That’s unforgivable, and I feel sorry for whoever ends up being in a relationship with you next.”

“I’d warn them,” Lance shrugs simply. “Because no one deserves your garbage. So do us a favor and leave us alone, unless you really wanna ruin your suit.”

His glare is still hard and stern, not one wavering as they’re speaking to him. But Keith watches him step back, relenting with his fists clenched tightly.

“Why don’t you clowns let Takashi speak for himself?” he finally suggests, watching the three of them.

Keith’s worried that Shiro won’t say anything, or that this incident would make him more upset. But instead, he surpasses his expectations by getting up from the booth. “As a matter of fact, I will.” He moves closer to him. “I’m tired of keeping my mouth shut.”

“Heh, that’s just the booze talking.”

“So?” he retorts. “You are an unempathetic, big-headed pig, and if I ever cross paths with you again, I will not hesitate to continue giving you exactly what you deserve. Even if it means incriminating myself.”

_Why to go, Shiro!_ Keith is so thrilled for him, and he and Lance share a knowing glance. He deserves to feel this empowered for once in his life, standing up to the man that caused him so much stress and turmoil after nearly a decade of his life wasted on him. He deserves to take that back!

Richard’s glare falters, but in the last instance, it twists into a smirk. “You wouldn’t dare.”

It’s as if they both suddenly realize that Shiro’s drunk.

He suddenly has a tight grip on the collar of his suit, his prosthesis clenched into a fist as he raises it up.

“Thanks for making me get this,” he chuckles.

“O-okay, big guy!” Lance hurries to take hold of the metal arm, stopping him. “I think you’ve had too much to drink. This isn’t good progress in your anger management.”

Keith is on his other side within seconds, holding him back. _Shit,_ he’s strong! “It’s not worth it, Shiro. You’ve convinced him!”

Of course, the bitchass coward leaves them after that, with no thanks. Shiro doesn’t take his eyes off him until he’s long gone from his sight, and he’s shaken underneath the couple’s grip as he starts to relax.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I’m so sorry. I drank too much,” he mumbles. “I need to go home.”

“It’s okay,” Lance insists gently. “You did so great! Maybe a little less physical next time, though.”

“Y-yeah,” he rasps and takes his phone out. “I’m gonna call for an Uber. Want Morvok again?”

As if they actually take the time to think about it, they all share a glance.

“Sure, why not.”

 

_Keith has absolutely no idea how_ these next events started to unfold. They are all drunkenly slumped together in the backseat of Morvok’s car, listening to some grunge that he has playing during the ride down the parkway. It’s during these first moments of their exchange that Keith finds out Lance is clingy when he’s drunk.

His hands are around his waist, and Shiro has his prosthesis looped right over him. It’s an awkward cuddling position, with their seatbelts intervening, but it’s nice. A lot warmer than Keith expected. Shiro’s long since discarded his jacked, claiming he felt hot, and to say that Keith was startled by how _thick_ his muscles are underneath his carefully chosen outfits is a huge understatement. And on the other side of the spectrum, Lance is so lean that he could hold him tightly enough to get the wind knocked out of him. He finds this out when all of a sudden he feels a swift clash of lips crushing into his own.

He has no idea how or why it happened. It’s all been going by in a blur. But god, Keith is _so_ into it. He loves the intense pleasure being combined with the disorientation of being intoxicated. And Shiro, _fuck,_ he’s not facing him right now but can just _feel_ how hot his body is against his and his breath on his neck. He can get lost in this forever.

Which is probably why he’s beyond infuriated when Morvok opens the back windows as they head into town. They all shiver from the sudden cold.

“No hanky panky in my car,” he scoffs as he pulls up in front of Shiro’s house.

His voice sounds more like an echo, faint and distant. He can’t think about anything else but having Lance and Shiro’s mouths on him again. _Anywhere_ on his body. He knows that he’s falling once again into a pit of regret that he’ll have to address in the morning when he wakes up all alone while simultaneously damaging the only true relationship he’s ever been a part of. But goddamn, he hopes that after tonight it’ll at least be worth it.

They all have to force their bodies back to reality so that they can pay their driver, but they stumble out one by one, their arms interlinking as they soon stand side by side. Shiro fumbles with his keys and laughs when he drops them on the ground. It’s so dark out here that they can’t even fucking see where they landed until Lance hears the familiar jingling of them on the porch from under his feet. They’re clumsy as they step inside, their bodies doing all the work for them while their heads are up in the clouds, drunk off of an alcohol intake so high that it should leave them unconscious, as well as off the sheer pleasure and intimacy that they unanimously are taking part in together.

The next thing he knows, he’s plopped right down onto Shiro’s queen sized bed. He hears a side comment from Shiro that he always feels like the bed’s too large when sleeping in it alone, but Keith immediately thinks that it’s not big enough. It’s not big enough for the three of them to bask comfortably on. They’ll have to make do.

He feels compelled to cover Shiro in kisses, feeling how hot his skin is from underneath his lips. Lance is on his other side, and slowly they undress each other as they watch Shiro’s brows furrow while getting lost in a wave of drunken pleasure.

This really shouldn’t feel as right as it does. This shouldn’t feel this hot, and Keith knows this. But with the way the other two are joining in on this pleasure as they’re all stripped bare, he can’t help but enjoy it a lot more than he should. He just hopes that they all feel the same way he does the next morning.

“I-it’s been so long,” Lance suddenly whines out, now lying on his back as Shiro and Keith hover over him. When did they switch positions? Keith isn’t keeping track anymore.

“We’ll take care of you.” Keith hears himself saying these words, but as soon as they leave his mouth he sounds unrecognizable. He’s too far gone to care.

“I think we all really needed this.” Shiro breathes out a laugh, his lips ghosting over the crook of Lance’s neck. It causes him to squirm, and Keith’s eyes travel straight downward, admiring Shiro’s well-endowed girth as well as Lance’s lithe naked body.

At some point they stop talking to each other, probably because they now lack the coherent thought process to do so. All that’s on their minds now is sex, sex, _sex._ Their innermost, primal desires are being unleashed. Not a single force on Earth can stop the storm from raging.

Keith’s hand wraps right around Lance’s cock as he kisses down his throat. He quickly realizes that Lance likes being bitten, when he leaves a little nip right above his clavicle. The way he squeaks when feeling the slightest edge of his teeth has him reeling further down. Lance’s moans and gasps sound like a song worthy of the gods’ appraisal.

He doesn’t like when he’s impaired enough that he can’t talk or actually process exactly what he’s doing with whomever he’s with, but for once he feels like it’s okay. It’s okay to let go this time around. After all, it’s like Shiro said before: they all _really_ needed this.

“Keeeiiith!” Lance’s sudden keening of his name takes his breath away. It’s the first word they’ve spoken in several minutes. And all of a sudden Keith feels cold behind him, because _where’s Shiro?_

He hears a hard slap against the nightstand drawer. It turns out that Shiro needed to do some digging to find a bottle of lube and condoms. And what he feels next is an absolute blur, because all he can think of right now is the instant desire to completely wreck one of the most gorgeous men he’s ever had the pleasure of knowing.

He’s fumbling with the bottle and can barely control his shaky hands. The three of them are laughing over how terribly he pours it onto his fingers, and he lathers them up best he can to make sure they’re slick. He wants this to be so, _so_ good for Lance. He doesn’t want to hurt him, and he’d never even dream of it!

Lance is presenting before Keith can even tell him to brace himself. With how far his legs are bent back and how enticing his tight, puckered hole is now that they’re flying into this head-on... _fuck,_ he hopes that he’ll remember this tomorrow morning.

When his slicked fingers rub over the rim, Lance’s mouth hangs open as nothing but gasps and pants escapes from his flushed lips. He wants to kiss them until they’re swollen while he’s taking him with just his one finger. He’s easing it inside, working it in slow, joint after joint. Lance quivers underneath him, and the whine he emits is soft and breathy.

He wants to take his sweet ass time with this. He grins and glances down to watch his own hand, thrusting his finger skillfully in and out. Each time he pushes it back in, he hears Lance’s shaky moans. It fuels him, and the sounds go straight to his dick.

Oh shit, _what is that?!_

He tenses up when suddenly he feels Shiro doing the same exact thing he’s doing to Lance. His fingers are circling him while his metal arm helps maneuver him so all three of them are comfortable. He feels his hips rock back and shakes as he tries to keep his composure.

“It’s okay,” Shiro croons in his ear, his voice low and sultry.

It causes Keith to whine on impulse, not exactly paying attention to when exactly he’s pushed his first finger in from behind. All he knows is that suddenly he’s being fingered by digits that are a _lot_ thicker than he’d expected. He quivers, trying not to rush a second finger inside Lance but also coaxing him to take more and stretch open further.

Each time he tries to muster enough coherence to continue fucking Lance with his fingers, he’s suddenly blown away as Shiro does the same thing to him at the _perfect_ angle. He can’t help but grow needy, his body shaking as his three fingers continue stretching Lance open. Lance’s aroused moans fuel him, while Shiro’s hums cause him to let go. His head is up further in the clouds.

“L-Lance—Shiro, _fuck,”_ he whines, once again nipping at Lance’s skin, on his chest just above his nipple to make him squirm. “Let’s fuck. Please, I need it.”

He doesn’t think he’s ever been _that_ desperate with his other “partners.” But it isn’t every day that he actually knows _and_ has feelings for who he’s sleeping with. He’s incredibly needy, wanting his thirst to be quenched, and it’s hard to think straight when there are large fingers constantly rubbing his prostate while his own are shoved inside Lance. It’s sensory overload of the best kind.

“Yes, _please,”_ Lance agrees after a gulp of air, his hips erratically trying to rock back into those uneven thrusts.

When he suddenly feels loss, he lets out this pitiful whine, shivering from the cold. Shiro tosses a condom over, which lands on Lance’s torso. It causes the man underneath him to have these blown-out, wide eyes that are nearly glazed over from arousal. This is one of the greatest wet dreams come to life.

It’s when he suddenly realizes, “We’re really doing this.”

“Yep.” Lance laughs breathlessly, doing the honor of unwrapping the condom and slicking Keith’s dick up himself. He wants to do the same thing for Shiro, but he lacks the willpower. He just wants to give and take and be taken _now._

He has a shaky hold on Lance’s hips, and he feels Shiro hold him from behind. He feels so ready and yet so _not_ ready at the same time. All he knows is that he wants it. He wants it, and he’ll take it ready or not. But he waits, waiting for Lance. He visibly looks nervous after a couple moments looking up at the two men above him.

Keith leans down and gives him a slow, deep kiss, and he feels forever grateful that he kisses him back in return. He feels Shiro mouthing at the back of his neck and his shoulders, and if he ever had any chance of sobering up tonight, being overwhelmed by these guys’ pleasure is making him feel drunk all over again.

They’re all set now. Lance’s last bits of tension ease, even while Keith is lining himself up and holding his partner down. With his hand firmly planted on his abdomen, he briefly guides himself in with the other and pushes in up to the tip. Lance’s reaction is _beautiful,_ his hips arching up just a fraction while his eyes widen before squeezing shut tightly. Each breath is an auditory praise, while his arms scramble for leverage. And yet, Keith holds him down still, working himself in as fluidly as he can. It makes the both of them groan, Lance’s jaw going slack. He’s so hot, tight, and _perfect,_ and he can’t help but test further by giving a shallow thrust.

He just barely catches Shiro’s warning, and when he feels his girth filling him up so much that it nearly burns, he whines a lot louder than he anticipated. The pleasure on both ends is like nothing he’s ever experienced, and the overload makes him feel even hotter. How is he supposed to concentrate when he’s buried in the most perfect ass while taking the biggest dick he’s ever had the pleasure of feeling inside him? It’s more likely than he’d expect.

None of them can speak. All they’re focused on is fucking, and Keith has no problems with that. No matter how much he tries to take control in his thrusts inside of Lance, he’s blindsided by Shiro continuously railing into him. It’s as if Shiro is pushing him indie Lance even further than before by using all his weight, and Lance’s noise go from breathy and shy to loud and high pitched within moments.

At that time, they only know two words in English language. Those words are “fuck” and “yes,” and they use them like they’re saying them for the very first time.

Keith doesn’t know what to rock into anymore. All of it is just so good! Lance’s one arm is gripping onto his back tightly, his nails digging into his skin and giving him a satisfying burn. His other arm is desperately reaching for Shiro, and he takes hold of the man’s hair and scratches at his scalp. And as Shiro buries his face in Keith’s shoulder while picking up the pace, Keith swears that he can hear him _laughing_ in between his groans. Maybe he’s just that drunk, but he loves hearing anything that comes out of his mouth.

Lance’s too. Holy shit, he wishes he can have them recorded and played for the rest of his life on repeat. And the faces he makes as he hits the right spot... _damn._ He wishes he can see Shiro’s face, too, but he feels satisfied enough being completely at his mercy.

He can’t even keep track of when exactly he starts getting close. All of a sudden, he’s even hotter than before, everything bursting into flames from the pounding pulse in his chest down to his groin. He wants to hold out, thinking that neither of them are ready to come yet, but it’s all becoming too much! And for someone that’s not entirely religious, he’s never said _“Oh, my god!”_ so many times in his entire life.

Thank goodness, he thinks to himself, as he notices Lance’s moans growing higher and more erratic, his hips desperately rocking up as his back arches. All Keith wants now is to make him come, to reward him for being so incredibly with how he moves his body. And he swears that from behind Shiro’s hips are slamming into him harder and _harder,_ just how he likes it!

He’s too close, and he hurries to open his mouth to warn them, already trembling the closer he gets. Before he can speak, his vision goes white, and the breath gets knocked out of him so fast that he fears he might pass out as he comes. He does so before Lance, but it’s okay, because he feels him suddenly squeeze down on his dick as he soon spills out in hot spurts onto his chest. This is the hardest that Keith’s ever come, and Shiro is still _going,_ the feeling of being overstimulated dragging out the orgasm even further. He loves it!

His eyes are brimmed with tears as he holds Lance close to his chest, and when Shiro finally buries himself to the hilt as he’s coming, he lets out one last strained cry, his throat burning from all the noises he doesn’t even remember making anymore.

Shiro does him the honor of being careful as he pulls out, disposing of his debauched condom as well as Keith’s when he slips out of Lance. He feels boneless, emptier than he’s ever felt in his life, and just when he feels the slightest ounce of nerves or paranoia, warm bodies are right there to hold him close and soothe him almost instantly. He feels safe while catching his breath, feeling beyond spent.

Within the final fragments of his consciousness, he remembers feeling the two of them kissing him tenderly, taking turns. They kiss each other too, and it’s enough to make Keith’s heart swell. He also remembers himself and Lance helping take Shiro’s arm off so that they can all sleep comfortably.

“I know, it’s weird...” Shiro’s self-conscious mumble echoes in his mind, and he comforts him with a kiss.

“You’re perfect, Shiro...” Keith yawns, overwhelmed by warmth and the promise of sleep. “You both are perfect.”

It’s the last thing he says before he blissfully drifts off to sleep. It’s the most comfortable he’s felt in a long time.

 

_His head is pounding when he_ wakes up the next morning. He has no idea what time it is, nor does he care. He snuggles further into the blankets, feeling so warm that he wants to lie here all day.

Wait.

He always wakes up freezing cold in the morning.

His eyes shoot open and he turns to look, his heart stopping when seeing a naked man beside him that’d make Adonis look like a town fool. It’s then that he realizes that he’s in Shiro’s bed, and... the dark-skinned arm splayed out across Shiro’s chest doesn’t help at all.

Shit, that’s _right._ The memories crash down on him all at once, even if there are bits and pieces missing. That doesn’t change the fact that they _had sex!_

He shouldn’t be here. Every instinct is telling him to run. It’s the way it’s always been, ever since the first morning he woke up alone. What if the other two don’t remember what happened last night? What if they regret it? He doesn’t want his heart to break even further than it already is.

He’s already developing further into his escape plan. He’ll have to quit the therapy group. Maybe he’s better off with one-on-one therapy. He might even move in with his uncle after all, if it’ll help ease the hurt he’s about to feel when they wake up and look at him possibly in shock and disgust.

He hurries to get up and find his clothes, but he feels weights crashing down on his head and this burning sensation in his ass that nearly puts him into a state of shock. Damn, is Shiro’s dick _really_ the biggest one he’s ever taken? Clearly, he’s been missing out.

No. He shouldn’t be thinking this way. Keith has no choice but to go back to bed, trying to ease his pain by curling back into the warmth.

He feels stirring in the bed after several moments of holding his bed. He also hears a pained whimper that makes his eyes go wide. He sincerely hopes Lance isn’t feeling regret.

“F-fuck<” he hears him gasp, and it makes him sit up again.

“Lance?” he whispers, trying not to wake Shiro.

Lance looks about as concerned as Keith feels. “We totally just...”

“Yeah,” he breathes out.

He bites down on his lip. “I was actually getting ready to leave. Because I was worried you guys didn’t like it last night.”

Oh shit.

“No, no...” He reaches out to take hold of Lance’s hand. “Don’t say that. Last night was...fucking _amazing.”_

The both share a quiet laugh together, and Keith soothingly rubs his thumb over his fingers.

“And to be honest,” he continues, “I was thinking the same thing... but about you two.”

“No, we can’t _both_ leave,” Lance teases. He’s then nuzzling his face into Shiro’s neck, leaving soft kisses there. “If we do this again, I want a turn with Shiro. It looked like he was blowing your mind.”

Keith blushes darkly, his head resting on Shiro’s other shoulder. “He definitely was.”

“I think you mean ‘when.’”

Hearing Shiro suddenly talk startles the two of them, and they look up to see Shiro staring at them.

“You remember too?” Lance asks hopefully.

“A little bit. But enough,” he grumbles as he rubs his head. “Enough to want more of this.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he grins.

Keith meanwhile is staring at them in absolute disbelief. Never has he felt this... accepted, and dare say, loved. And he wants more of it.

He doesn’t even mind the lingering smell of morning breath as they all exchange slow kisses with each other.

“Here’s the plan today,” Shiro then announces. “Showers, hangover remedies, and a long talk.”

“Good plan,” Keith insists, still clinging to Shiro’s frame.

It takes them two hours before they finally get out of bed, and it nearly slips Keith’s mind that he has to tell them his birthday is tomorrow. They celebrate by making the craziest cake he’s ever eaten, watching more episodes of The Office while they talk more about meeting their families and how they can all make their relationship a little more official.

Never has reverse expectations ever felt so sweet.


	7. Domesticated

_“You did what?!”_

_Shiro’s face turns several shades of_ red. “I’m not going to go into detail! Besides, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not a big deal?!” Matt gasps. “Dude, you’re an animal! I ask you to let loose at a party without me one time, and you come out with not only one, but _two boyfriends!_ You’re on a roll!”

Shiro shyly hides his face. He’s incredibly lucky neither of them is here to witness this.

“What are you shouting about?” Pidge walks over from their stoop on the couch, fixing their glasses.

“Shiro got laid!” He has this shit-eating grin on his face.

“Matt!” Shiro’s face darkens as he shoves him away.

Pidge chuckles while watching them. “Who’s the unlucky bastard?”

Matt _giggles._ “Don’t you mean ‘bastards?’ He slept with Lance _and_ Keith! At the same time! They were together and had kinky three-way sex!”

“Matthew Holt, I _swear to fucking god—”_

“Ew! What makes you think I wanna hear about it?!” They wrinkle their nose and saunter off. “By the way, I already knew about it. Lance told me.”

As they go into their bedroom, Matt keeps that grin on his face. “See? You’re not the only big mouth here.”

“Oh, shut up.” In a fit of embarrassment, he shuffles aside. “D-don’t start blabbing to everyone about it yet. I’m waiting for a good time to bring it up.”

“Any time’s a good time to bring it up, big boy.” Matt won’t stop teasing.

He rolls his eyes and goes back to his grading, the movie that’s been playing in the living room merely background noise. “I met Keith’s uncle yesterday. I think he likes me. We’re going to Lance’s house on Thanksgiving. And then in December they’re meeting my dad. Well, Lance has already seen him, but I mean they’re actually going to _meet_ him and talk to him.”

“You’re very serious about this...” Matt muses in surprise.

He pauses when his friend interjects. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d wanna jump into a serious relationship right away again. Especially with two other people. Doesn’t that seem a little taxing?”

Shiro right away wants to protest, but he knows that it’s something he needs to consider. He’s practically nose-diving into this after explicitly saying that he hates commitment, all thanks to Richard. He supposes that maybe he just needed to be with the right people.

“I don’t think so. Sure, it’s a little scary, but you could say that about anything you try that’s new. We’re going to make it work,” he insists. “It does seem like we’re flying too fast into it now, but maybe that’s only because we’ve clicked just as quickly. It’s not that hard to imagine.”

“I guess you’re right.” Matt smiles. “Who am I to judge? Either way, as your friend, it’s my job to support you and just urge you to be careful. As any loving friend would.” He adds the latter jokingly.

“You’re the best,” he grins.

 

_“Why are you getting all this food?”_

_“Because, Dad, we’ll be having company over the house.” Shiro has a hearty meal planned_ for when Lance and Keith meet his father. It’s all going according to plan, and he’s never felt more relaxed despite a taxing itinerary. _“They’re my friends, Lance and Keith. They want to meet you.”_

_“Are they going to meet at your house or mine?”_

_“Don’t you want them to see your house? You have a great set-up there. They’ll love it.”_

He frowns as they gather up more groceries. _“Antok won’t mind that they’re there, will he?”_

As they’re speaking to each other, they wait on the line to be checked out.

_“Wouldn’t Richard be mad that you’re spending time with other men?”_

His breath catches as he diverts his eyes. _“I’m not with Richard anymore. And even if I was, I can have friends, Dad.”_ He’s starting to think that his dad loves his ex-husband more than him. He seems to remember Richard better than his own son most of the time. It’s devastating. He starts putting the groceries on the belt, making sure that the assembly line is maintained.

His dad wanders further up the line, bumping into the customer in front of him.

“Do you mind?” he scoffs, looking disgusted with the older man.

Shiro tenses up and takes his father by the shirt to pull him away from the man.

_“Get off of me, you bastard!”_

“Otousan!” He bites his lip and turns his attention back to the other customer. “I’m sorry. He didn’t mean to cause any harm.”

“Why don’t you take better control of him?” he mutters and gives the cashier his money.

“‘Better control of him?!’ He’s not a pet!” he snaps.

The customer is none too pleased with his eruption, and he shakes his head while moving away from the line. “Lay off, dude. Maybe you need to be better controlled, too.”

Shiro growls under his breath, and as the customer leaves he irritably gets his bags ready. “You don’t have to bag. I got my own,” he mumbles as he guides his father closer to the cart. He’s not going to have another person bother him like that again.

As the items move down the belt, he thinks about his rationale. Did he handle that correctly? It could’ve been a whole lot worse, right? There’s no way to really tell, and he doesn’t want to find out what could’ve possibly happened instead.

His day goes sour as he notices everyone around him in the supermarket giving him weird looks. He doesn’t know if they’re looking at him specifically or the way that his dad is muttering impatiently under his breath while rolling the cart back and forth.

He’d never be able to take care of him on his own.

 

_“Hi, this is Takashi Shirogane. I saw_ your realtor ad in the paper, and I would like to sell my home.”

He’s on the phone with Regris, one of the town’s most stellar real estate agents. He hopes that this plan works. So far, he’s pretty reasonable about how to help set up his finances. Fortunately for him, he and Richard have been living here for long enough where they’ve met their minimum term staying here.

Shiro has a tab open for a popular apartment complex that’s well within his budget. It’s two bedrooms and decently sized. Sure, he’s going to have to sell some of his things, but it’s not that big of a deal. After all, some of the items in his home are his ex-husband’s. And the best part is that after negotiating with the landlord, he will be able to have other people move in with him. That’s the perfect invitation for two specific people in his life, for when the time comes that they’re steady enough to share a place together.

Is he jumping into this? Is he really ready to ask that much of his new boyfriends? He’d like to think so, but they’ve only just started introducing each other to their families. He’s willing to let time be the judge, so that they don’t jump into things. Thus far, they’ve been meshing pretty well together, but it’s different once they’re all under one roof.

Do they keep their areas clean? How well are they at managing their budgets? The rent will be significantly cheaper with all three of them splitting the bills, that’s for sure. He also knows that Keith is looking into moving out of his townhouse, so joining him at the apartment could be an easy option. Sure, it’ll be _months_ before he’ll actually be able to sell the house and move.

_“I’ll set up the appointments for your inspections. Also, I’ll start right away setting up a time frame with you in preparation for selling the house,”_ Regris insists over the phone. _“If we play our cards right, we’ll be able to have the house on the market by February, the latest.”_

“That sounds great,” he insists. “Thank you, sir.” He jots down more notes that he was able to gather, despite the entire conversation being a complete blur. He’d been so lost in his own thoughts that he’s had to have Regris repeat a couple things to make sure that they stick in his brain. After hanging up the phone, he starts to set up an online page for himself to start selling items and novelties that he doesn’t want anymore. He’ll need all the monetary backup he can get.

“If I play my cards right, things will finally look up,” Shiro assures himself, while putting a description up for Richard’s stereo. Who needs a stereo these days, anyways?

 

_Shiro isn’t sure what to bring_ to Lance’s house. He’s decided to go with a plate of muffins, although he isn’t entirely sure what to expect at this dinner.

He notices Keith walking across the street to the house. He gives him a shy wave, and they meet up on the street corner.

“So, a little birdy told me that you’re selling the house?”

He smiles bashfully. “Well, yeah. Not any time soon, but I need to get a smaller place. I’m not sure what I’d do with a four-bedroom house.”

“Four bedrooms? On a teacher’s salary?” he teases.

“Richard was a software engineer.” He sighs while they both take those hesitant steps up to the porch. “What if Lance’s family doesn’t like us?”

Keith shrugs. “If his stepdad’s brood says anything I don’t like, I might have to slug him.”

“Now Keith, that’d go against our progress with the group therapy,” he warns. “The best we can do is grit our teeth and try not to bruise our own thighs when we squeeze them to keep us from slugging them.”

“The restraint of a saint, I see.” He takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell. He takes a glance down at the bundle Shiro’s holding in his hand. “Muffins?” Now, I feel like an asshole for not bringing anything,” he pouts.

“Well hey, aren’t we technically together?” Shiro winks just as the door opens, and he briefly catches a glance at Keith’s reddened face in his peripheral vision.

Lance is the one that answered, and he steps outside and shuts the door so he can hurry and give us a hug. “Thank god, I thought I was gonna spend the whole evening alone in there.”

“That bad, huh?” Keith frowns and slowly rubs his back.

“You can say that.” He huffs before leaning in to give them both chaste kisses. “My stepdad’s family is more... traditional, so they won’t be as cool with us as Keith’s uncle was.”

“I think I might have the same issue with my dad,” Shiro sighs. “My dad’s seventy-two.”

Keith gulps. “Okay, I knew that your dad was _older,_ but I didn’t realize that he was _that_ old.”

“My parents’ relationship was accustomed.” Shiro looks at the door again. “Aren’t you gonna let us in?” he teases.

“O-oh yeah! It’s freezing out here,” he gasps as he opens the door for them. The three of them step inside together, and Shiro’s met by a boisterous onslaught of laughter and family members congregating. It’s nothing like he’s ever experienced, and neither has Keith.

The two of them are a little flustered as Lance’s abuelito urges them to come sit and enjoy the meal. Shiro didn’t realize that they’ve already started socializing as early as three in the afternoon. With it now being almost six o’clock, he and Keith have arrived just in time for dinner to start.

Lance’s mother asks them a whole boatload of questions. It’s the first time that he’s brought home friends that aren’t Hunk or Pidge.

“Where do you two work?” she asks encouragingly.

“I’m a history teacher at Arus High,” Shiro starts. “I’ve been teaching for about nine years now. I got very lucky with my job.”

“Excellent,” she beams. “And you, Keith?”

“I work at Blade of Marmora Cabinetry. I’m one of the best carpenters there,” he says modestly. “Just gotta work on my attitude.”

“Oh, that’s right. Lance did say that he met you two at that group he goes to.”

“If only that group actually worked.” That was an ill-disguised jab from someone in Lance’s extended family. Shiro doesn’t want to point any fingers, but he thinks that it’s his grandmother.

His statement is proven correct when she continues to go on a tangent. “I don’t understand how that boy chooses to stay at that dead-end job of his,” she mutters. “Why isn’t he in college already?”

“At this point, is it really worth the money to go to school? At his age?”

Lance’s face is red, his fists clenched as he does his damnedest to keep a smile on his face. “I’m getting along just fine at GACMart, Grandma.” The way he talks to her sounds forced.

“Well, if you did go, you’ll be making real money like these friends you’ve got here.”

That strikes a nerve. Not just in Lance, but in Shiro, as well. He’s heard comments like that from Richard’s in-laws at family gatherings. Why is this extended family of his so cruel? What did Lance’s mother see in his stepfather that _isn’t_ some mean trait passed down from his family?

“Now, just a minu—”

“I-if I may,” Keith interrupts Shiro, his hand placed on his shoulder, “I don’t think it’s very fair to compare him to us. Everyone has different experiences and make choices on their own. In fact, I didn’t go to college, either.”

As soon as he’d mentioned that, she gives him a judgmental look. It’s at that point Shiro realizes that nothing would get through to her.

Lance gives them an apologetic look. For the most part, his mother and stepfather are pretty nice. It’s just the paternal extended family that’s a pain in the ass. Shiro has no idea how Lance is able to deal with these people. Now that he’s experienced the main crux of his passive aggressive issues firsthand, the one thing that Shiro is grateful for is that now he knows they’re going to confront it and get through this together.

Dinner gets a little more awkward now. It’s quiet, and they’re only engaging in small talk. When it’s over, Lance gets up and leads Shiro and Keith out of the dining room.

He takes them both to his bedroom upstairs. There, he can feel a little better about letting it out. “I wanna thank you... for defending me out there. You didn’t have to do that, but it means so much to me.”

“Lance, no need to thank us.” Keith smiles faintly while wrapping an arm around him. “Don’t worry about what they say. Do what makes you happy.”

“Exactly,” Shiro smiles and kisses his temple. “What makes you happy? What do you want to do with your life? Whatever it is, we’ll support you no matter what.”

Lance gulps as he looks down. “I actually wanna go into medicine. I’ve thought about it for a while. I wanna be a doctor.”

“You do?” They both say it together. It must feel really good for Lance to say that out loud!

“Yeah.” He looks nervous about it, though. “But aren’t I a little too old for Pre-Med? It’ll take _years_ before I get to finish all my schooling.”

“Sure, but don’t let that stop you,” Shiro insists. “In fact, for the longest time, I’ve wanted to go back to school. I wanted to get my Master’s. Eventually, I wanted my Doctorate. I wanted to be a history professor. I’ve thought so much about it, that I already knew what I wanted to specialize in. We need more in-depth conversations about the history of non-western civilizations. I’ve always wanted to take part in preserving Asian culture. And if I have to set up another whole year of lesson plans in US History II, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“You sound like you really want that,” Keith mumbles while holding the two of them.

“What’s stopping you from doing that, Shiro?” Lance raises a brow.

“W-well, it was...” He trails off. He knows exactly what stopped him. To admit it takes a lot more guts than he realizes. “Richard stopped me from going to Grad school. He always said that it was too much money. And he was against me being a teacher in the first place. He said it was a fruitless field, that it was a waste of money...”

“He’s not here now, is he?” he challenges.

Shiro minutely shakes his head.

“So, let me ask you again...” Lance takes his hands and kisses them both. “What’s stopping you from doing that?”

Come to think of it, he really wants to go further with his degree. It’s been his lifelong dream to be a college professor. No more bratty teenagers, no more gripes in the teacher’s lounge, and no more judgmental glances after Shiro gives one of the most important lectures of the semester while others turn a naïve yet critical eye away from him. He wants to excel.

“Absolutely nothing,” he grins. “And what’s stopping you, Lance?”

“Nothing,” he echoes back.

They share a slow, long kiss, and it’s enough for Shiro to get into Lance’s head that he deserves this chance to better himself and do what he really wants to do with his life.

Keith watches them fondly, and Shiro blushes underneath his gaze as he and Lance break the kiss. “You both should go back to school,” he insists. “Get your acts together, and be what you wanna be.”

The three of them turn into an excited pile of mush, and they’re excitedly talking on Lance’s bed about their life plans now that they have the extra incentive to go forward with them.

“What about you, Keith?” Shiro murmurs as he runs his hand up his shirt, rubbing soothing circles over his chest. “What’s always been your passion?”

“Honestly?” He looks up at the ceiling and lets out a short laugh. “I love carpentry. But there’s a part of me that also wants to do something else. I don’t know what that is just yet.”

He kisses him reassuringly. “And you don’t have to know yet. We’re both happy with whatever you want to do with your life, so long as you’re happy yourself.”

“Exactly.” Lance rolls on top of Keith, making him squirm underneath his weight.

“Okay, okay!” he laughs, and they get tangled in each other’s limbs. They all feel perfectly satisfied, just being together.

Life is good.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://tiff-the-little-wanderer.tumblr.com)   
>  [twitter](http://twitter.com/wandering_tiff)


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